"  AUG  19  1955 


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BX  5995  . 

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Allen,  Alexander 

V. 

G. 

1841- 

1908. 

Phillips 

Brooks , 

1835- 

■1893 

(^C^x? 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

■)  1936 


1835-1893 


MEMORIES  OF  HIS  LIFE 
WITH  EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS 
LETTERS  AND  NOTE-BOOKS 


BY 
ALEXANDER  V.  G.  ALLEN 

AUTHOR  OF 
««  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 


— " ' 

NEW  YORK 

E-PvDUTTON  €r  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1907 

BY 

ALEXANDER  V.  G.  ALLEN 

WILLIAM  G.  BROOKS,  ELIZABETH  W.  KELLNER 
HARRIETTE  HALL  BROOKS 

All  Rights  Reserved 


PREFACE. 

The  Life  and  Letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  published  in 
1900,  some  seven  years  after  his  death.  Since  then  an  abridg- 
ment has  been  frequently  and  urgently  called  for,  on  the  ground 
that  a  large  number  of  people  who  would  like  to  know  Phillips 
Brooks  have  not  the  time  to  read  so  full  a  biography,  whose 
cost  also  is  in  many  cases  prohibitive.  In  reducing  the  work 
some  parts  have  been  rewritten  in  order  to  condensation,  but 
care  has  been  taken  to  preserve  everything  of  importance 
bearing  on  his  development,  and  to  maintain  the  perspective 
of  his  career.  The  very  kind  and  generous  reception  accorded 
to  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  is  here  most  gratefully 
acknowledged.  It  indicates  how  deeply  he  had  stamped  his 
personality  upon  the  American  people,  and  what  enduring  im- 
pression he  had  left  by  his  unprecedented  power  in  the  pulpit. 
The  love  and  devotion  which  went  out  toward  him  in  such  un- 
stinted measure  while  living  have  not  ceased  with  his  death. 
He  is  still  speaking  to  the  world  he  loved — the  world  whose 
growth  he  wanted  to  live  in  order  that  he  might  see.  His 
message  has  not  been,  and  cannot  be,  outgrown.  He  had  solved 
in  his  capacious  mind  and  heart  the  issues  which  still  confront 
us.  In  extraordinary  manner  he  combined  a  love  for  the  his- 
torical Christ  and  insight  into  His  life  and  teaching  with  a  de- 
votion so  rare  to  the  essential  and  eternal  Christ,  whom  the 
Church  has  worshipped,  that  he  seems  to  belong  to  what  are 
called  the  "Ages  of  Faith"  rather  than  to  the  world  of  doubt 
in  which  he  lived.  Among  his  large  utterances  which  tend  to 
reconcile  and  encourage,  this  was  one  of  the  foremost, — that 
all  humanity  constitutes,  according  to  the  divine  ideal,  the 
body  of  Christ;  and  another  was  that  the  words  of  Christ  "I  am 
come  not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil"  applied  not  only  to  the  spiritual 
aspirations  and  movements  of  His  own  age,  but  to  those  of 
every  age  and  country. 


IV 


PREFACE 


My  chief  indebtedness  in  making  this  abridgment  is  to  my 
wife,  without  whose  aid  it  could  not  have  been  accomplished. 
A  pupil  of  Phillips  Brooks,  she  had  drunk  deeply  of  his  teaching 
and  she  has  been  a  most  valuable  and  indefatigable  collaborator 
in  this  effort  to  make  him  more  widely  known. 
Cambridge,     September  30,  1907. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I. 

1835-1855. 

PAGE 
ANCESTRY.      BIRTH  AND  EARLY  LIFE.      BOSTON  LATIN  SCHOOL. 

HARVARD  COLLEGE I-18 

CHAPTER   II. 

1855-1856. 

FAILURE  AS  A  TEACHER  IN  THE  BOSTON  LATIN  SCHOOL.  EX- 
TRACTS FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  BEGINNINGS  OF  RELIGIOUS 
EXPERIENCE.  DEPARTURE  FOR  THE  THEOLOGICAL 
SEMINARY  OF  VIRGINIA I9~37 

CHAPTER  III. 

1856-1857. 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  OF  VIRGINIA.       NATURE  AND  EXTENT 

OF  READING.       EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS       .  .         38-57 

CHAPTER  IV. 

1857-1858. 

SECOND  YEAR  AT  THE  ALEXANDRIA  SEMINARY.  HOME  LET- 
TERS.      EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS  .  .  .         58-83 

CHAPTER  V. 
1858-1859. 

LAST  YEAR  AS  STUDENT.      THE  FIRST  SERMON.       ORDINATION. 

CALL  TO  PHILADELPHIA.    EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS    84-IO4 

V 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VI. 
1859-1862. 

PAGE 
FIRST  TWO  YEARS  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  CHURCH  OF  THE  AD- 
VENT, PHILADELPHIA.  EARLY  RECOGNITION  OF  HIS 
POWER  AS  A  PREACHER.  EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS 
AND  NOTE-BOOKS.  BEGINNING  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 
CALL  TO  CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY  IN  PHILA- 
DELPHIA      IO5-I3O 

CHAPTER  VII. 
1862-1863. 

THE  CIVIL  WAR.  LINCOLN'S  PROCLAMATION.  GENERAL 
CONVENTION  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH.  DEATH  OF 
HIS  BROTHER.  PARISH  WORK.  THREATENED  INVASION 
OF  PHILADELPHIA.  BISHOP  HOPKINS'S  BIBLE  ARGUMENT 
FOR  SLAVERY.  INTEREST  IN  THE  FREEDMEN.  THANKS- 
GIVING SERMON 131-158 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

1864-1865. 

CALL  TO  THE  PHILADELPHIA  DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  EXTRACTS 
FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  SPEECHES  IN  BEHALF  OF  NEGRO  SUF- 
FRAGE. THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR.  THE  DEATH  OF  LINCOLN. 
THE  HARVARD  COMMEMORATION.  DEPARTURE  FOR 
EUROPE  159-189 

CHAPTER  IX. 

1865-1869. 

THE  YEAR  IN  EUROPE.  REMINISCENCES.  CALL  TO  THE  EPIS- 
COPAL THEOLOGICAL  SCHOOL.  NOTES  FROM  HIS  JOUR- 
NAL. LETTER  TO  DEAN  STANLEY.  CALL  TO  TRINITY 
CHURCH,    BOSTON I9O-23O 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  X. 
1869-1872. 

PAGE 
TRINITY  CHURCH.  THE  RECEPTION  IN  BOSTON.  CONTEM- 
PORANEOUS COMMENTS.  RECORD  OF  WORK.  EX- 
TRACTS FROM  CORRESPONDENCE  AND  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS. 
SOCIAL  LIFE.  THE  SUMMER  IN  EUROPE.  FORMATION 
OF  THE  CLERICUS  CLUB.  DESTRUCTION  OF  TRINITY 
CHURCH  IN  THE  BOSTON  FIRE    .....    231-262 

CHAPTER  XI. 

1873-1877. 

ECCLESIASTICAL  CONTROVERSIES.  RELATION  TO  THE  EVAN- 
GELICAL SCHOOL.  EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRESPONDENCE. 
THE  SUMMER  IN  EUROPE.  DEATH  OF  FREDERICK 
BROOKS.  SERVICES  IN  HUNTINGTON  HALL.  EXTRACTS 
FROM  NOTE-BOOKS.  METHOD  OF  PREPARING  SERMONS. 
ESSAY  ON  COURAGE.  TESTIMONY  OF  PRINCIPAL  TULLOCH. 
THE  NEW  TRINITY  CHURCH 263-294 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1877-1878. 

RELIGIOUS  DOUBT.  YALE  LECTURES  ON  PREACHING.  THE 
TEACHING  OF  RELIGION.  THE  PULPIT  AND  POPULAR 
SKEPTICISM.      THE   INFLUENCE   OF  JESUS  .  .    295-324 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

1877-1880. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRESPONDENCE.  INVITATION  TO  PREACH 
FOR  MR.  MOODY.  SUMMER  IN  EUROPE.  SERMON  AT 
WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  DEGREE  OF  DOCTOR  OF  DIVINITY 
CONFERRED  BY  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY.  COMMENTS  ON 
THE    GENERAL    CONVENTION.       VISIT    OF    DEAN    STANLEY 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 
TO     AMERICA.       ILLNESS     AND     DEATH     OP     HIS     FATHER. 
VISIT  TO  PHILADELPHIA.      CONVENTION  SERMON.      CORRE- 
SPONDENCE.      THE     DEATH     OF     HIS     MOTHER.       SERMON 
BEFORE  THE   QUEEN.       WESTMINSTER  ABBEY    .  .    325-349 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
1881-1882. 

THE  CALL  TO  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  AS  PREACHER  AND  PRO- 
FESSOR OF  CHRISTIAN  ETHICS.  EXTRACTS  FROM  COR- 
RESPONDENCE. MEMORIAL  SERMON  ON  DR.  VINTON. 
DEATH  OF  DEAN  STANLEY.  SPEECHES  AT  CHURCH  CON- 
GRESS. SECOND  VOLUME  OF  SERMONS.  THE  STANLEY 
MEMORIAL.       REQUEST    FOR    LEAVE    OF    ABSENCE    FOR    A 

YEAR 350-371 

CHAPTER  XV. 

1882-1883. 

PLANS  FOR  THE  YEAR  ABROAD.  GERMANY.  CORRESPOND- 
ENCE. EXTRACTS  RROM  NOTE-BOOKS.  INDIA.  EX- 
TRACTS FROM  LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL.  RETURN  FROM 
INDIA.  VISIT  TO  SPAIN.  RECEPTION  IN  ENGLAND. 
VISIT  TO  TENNYSON.  LETTERS.  EXTRACTS  FROM 
JOURNAL 372-413 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

1883. 

THE  RETURN  TO  BOSTON.  EXTRACTS  FROM  SERMONS.  AD- 
DRESS ON  LUTHER.  CORRESPONDENCE.  EXTRACTS  FROM 
JOURNAL  414-432 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

1884. 

VISIT  TO  WASHINGTON.  OLD  HOUSE  AT  NORTH  ANDOVER. 
THEATRE-GOING.  SISTERHOOD.  LATIN  SCHOOL  ADDRESS. 
VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  DEGREE  OF  D.D.  CONFERRED  AT 
OXFORD.  SERMON  AT  CAMBRIDGE  UNIVERSITY.  EX- 
TRACTS FROM  NOTE-BOOKS 433-458 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1886. 

PAGE 
ESSAY  ON  BIOGRAPHY.  ELECTION  AS  ASSISTANT  BISHOP  OF 
PENNSYLVANIA.  VISIT  TO  CALIFORNIA.  VIEWS  ON 
IMMIGRATION.  ABOLITION  OF  COMPULSORY  ATTEND- 
ANCE ON  RELIGIOUS  SERVICES  AT  HARVARD.  NORTH 
ANDOVER.  CHAUTAUQUA  ADDRESS  ON  "LITERATURE 
AND  LIFE."  DEATH  OF  RICHARDSON.  FOURTH  VOLUME 
OF  SERMONS.  PROTEST  AGAINST  CHANGING  THE  NAME 
OF    THE    PROTESTANT    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH         .  .    459-483 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
1887. 

INCIDENTS  IN  PARISH  LIFE.  INVITATION  TO  DELIVER  THE 
BAMPTON  LECTURES.  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS. 
SERMON  AT  FANEUIL  HALL.  ST.  ANDREW'S  MISSION 
CHURCH.  TENTH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  THE  CONSECRATION 
OF  TRINITY  CHURCH.  SERMON  AT  ANDOVER.  SUMMER 
IN   EUROPE.       ILLNESS.       CORRESPONDENCE        .  .    484-499 

CHAPTER  XX. 

1888. 

RAILWAY  ACCIDENT  IN  PHILADELPHIA.  INCIDENTS  OF 
PARISH  LIFE.  LENTEN  SERVICES.  CORRESPONDENCE. 
SENTIMENT  AND  SENTIMENTALITY.  COMMENTS  ON 
"ROBERT      ELSMERE."      THANKSGIVING      SERMON      .    500-518 

CHAPTER  XXI. 


WATCH  NIGHT.  OCCASIONAL  ADDRESSES.  LENT  SERVICES 
AT  TRINITY  CHURCH.  ILLNESS.  SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 
EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS.  THE  GENERAL  CONVEN- 
TION. SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL  REFORMS.  THE  EVAN- 
GELICAL ALLIANCE.      CORRESPONDENCE    .  .  .    519-539 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

1890. 

PAGE 

SPEECH  AT  THE  CHAMBER  OF  COMMERCE.  LENTEN  ADDRESSES 
IN  TRINITY  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK.  CHANGE  IN  MANNER 
OF  PREACHING.  CORRESPONDENCE.  ADDRESS  AT  THE 
CHURCH  CONGRESS.       THANKSGIVING  SERMON   .  .    540-559 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
CHARACTERISTICS 560-583 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
1891. 

LENT  AT  TRINITY  CHURCH.  NOON  LECTURES  AT  ST.  PAUL'S. 
ELECTION  TO  THE  EPISCOPATE.  THE  CONTROVERSY 
FOLLOWING  THE  ELECTION.  EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRE- 
SPONDENCE           584-606 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
1891-1892. 

consecration  as  bishop.  the  church  congress  at 
washington.  administrative  capacity.  illness, 
lenten  addresses.  union  service  on  good  friday, 
convention  address.  correspondence.  summer 
abroad.  english  volume  of  sermons.  return  to 
boston.  st.  Andrew's  brotherhood,  the  gen- 
eral CONVENTION  IN  BALTIMORE.  DEATH  OF  TENNY- 
SON.      CORRESPONDENCE 607-638 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

1893. 

CONCLUSION  ......  .  .  639-647 

INDEX    .......  »  649 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS 


CHAPTER  I. 

1835-1855. 

ANCESTRY.      BIRTH    AND    EARLY    LIFE.       BOSTON   LATIN 
SCHOOL.       HARVARD    COLLEGE. 

The  two  families  represented  in  the  name  Phillips  Brooks 
trace  their  origin  to  the  earliest  days  of  New  EngUnd  history. 
They  migrated  from  England  in  the  seventeenth  century — the 
Rev.  George  Phillips  in  1630  and  Thomas  Brooks  in  the  same 
decade — and  were  associated  in  the  parish  at  Waiertown  near 
Boston,  of  which  Rev.  George  Phillips  was  the  first  pastor. 
While  both  families  are  Puritan  in  their  antecedents,  they 
differed  as  widely  as  doctrinal  Puritans  differed  from  political 
Puritans  in  the  conflicts  of  the  age  of  migration.  In  the  Phillips 
family,  there  was  from  the  first  a  transcendental  idealism  which 
was  handed  down  substantially  unchanged  in  the  successive 
generations,  an  intense  religious  devotion,  an  ascetic  view  of 
life.  But  combined  with  these  in  organic  relationship  was  an 
interest  in  political  affairs,  and  in  the  secular  relations  of  busi- 
ness and  trade. 

The  Rev.  George  Phillips  was  prominent  in  the  Puritan  coun- 
cils of  his  time ;  he  helped  mould  the  ecclesiastical  polity  of  New 
England  and  in  some  respects  may  be  called  its  founder.  Each 
of  the  three  generations  following  was  represented  by  a  Puritan 
minister,  the  most  distinguished  being  the  Rev.  Samuel  Phil- 
lips, pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church  in  Andover,  Massachu- 
setts (1711-1773), — a  masterly  man  in  whom  the  dignity  of  the 
Puritan  minister  was  embodied.  His  descendants  went  into 
trade,  but  remained  profoundly  religious.  Among  them  the 
most  prominent,  in  whom  the  family  attained  high  distinction, 
was  Judge  Samuel  Phillips  of  Andover  (1752-1802),  who  became 
Lieutenant-Governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  was  even  more 
distinguished  as  the  founder  of  Phillips  Academy  and  the  Andover 


2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Theological  Seminary.  To  these  institutions  he  gave  a  large 
part  of  his  fortune.  For  nearly  thirty  years  he  took  an  im- 
portant part  in  all  the  measures  of  the  State.  He  possessed 
great  business  capacity,  with  high  statesmanship  and  patriotism 
as  well  as  devotion  to  the  cause  of  learning  and  religion.  He 
was  the  great-grandfather  of  Phillips  Brooks.  His  grandfather 
was  a  man  like  minded,  John  Phillips,  who,  living  a  less  public 
life,  made  sacrifices  in  the  cause  of  religious  and  theological 
education.  To  his  daughter  Mary  Ann  Phillips,  the  mother  of 
Phillips  Brooks,  was  transmitted  the  family  endowment  unim- 
paired— the  great  capacity  for  religion.  In  her  deep  nature, 
the  example  and  teaching  of  her  ancestors  found  congenial  soil 
for  further  growth  and  expansion.  She  pondered  these  things 
in  her  heart. 

When  we  turn  to  the  Brooks  family  we  are  conscious  of  a 
difference  in  the  religious  and  social  atmosphere.  There  is  no 
special  sympathy  with  doctrinal  or  experimental  Puritanism. 
In  tracing  the  line  of  descent,  there  are  seen  no  religious  leaders. 
Only  one  of  its  members  entered  the  ministry;  nor  did  Harvard 
College  claim  the  same  relative  contingent  as  in  the  Phillips 
family.  They  were  rich  farmers,  with  the  inherited  English 
love  for  the  land.  They  became  more  exclusively  identified 
with  trade,  counting  in  their  numbers  opulent  merchants;  they 
showed  devotion  to  country,  some  of  them  rising  to  high  po- 
sitions in  the  army  or  in  offices  of  the  State.  They  cultivated 
integrity  of  character,  in  each  generation  possessing  some  repre- 
sentative who  was  trusted  and  honored.  As  a  family  they 
became  identified  with  the  town  of  Medford,  as  the  Phillips 
family  was  identified  with  Andover. 

In  the  schism  which  befell  the  Puritan  churches,  the  Brooks 
family  became  Unitarian.  Their  sole  clerical  representative  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  the  Rev.  Edward  Brooks  (1733-1781), 
having  become  entangled  in  the  mazes  of  error — so  they  were 
deemed — of  the  rising  Arminianism,  was  forced  by  his  strict 
Calvinistic  parishioners  to  resign  his  place  as  pastor.  He  left 
the  Church  for  the  army,  where  he  rose  to  be  acting  adjutant- 
general  in  the  battle  of  Monmouth.  It  was  through  his  marriage 
with  a  daughter  of  the  house  of  the  Rev.  John  Cotton  that 
Phillips  Brooks  became  a   lineal  descendant  of  that  famous 


ANCESTRY 

divine,  whose  name  was  in  all  the  churches;  whose  coming  to 
New  England  from  old  Boston,  in  Lincolnshire,  had  been  re- 
garded at  the  time  as  a  signal  favor  of  Divine  Providence. 

One  of  the  sons  of  this  Edward  Brooks  was  Peter  Chardon 
Brooks  (11849),  reputed  in  his  day  to  be  the  richest  man  in 
Boston.  His  life  has  been  described  by  one  of  his  descendants: 
"he  was  simply  a  merchant  coining  money  as  he  had  oppor- 
tunity, making  investments,  sending  out  cargoes,  negotiating 
bonds,  pursuing  a  just  course,  yet  he  did  his  full  share  of  public 
good,  and  left  a  name  that  his  descendants  are  proud  to  bear." 
He  is  entitled  to  mention  here  because,  at  an  important 
moment  in  their  lives,  he  stood  in  loco  parentis  to  William  Gray 
Brooks  and  Mary  Ann  Phillips,  the  father  and  mother  of  Phillips 
Brooks.  To  Mary  Ann  Phillips  he  was  related  through  his 
marriage  to  her  mother's  sister;  and  William  Gray  Brooks  was 
the  son  of  his  older  brother.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  had  a  large 
family  of  sons  and  daughters.  The  sons  went  out  into  the 
world  to  make  for  themselves  honorable  names;  of  the  daughters, 
one  married  Edward  Everett,  another  Charles  Francis  Adams, 
and  a  third  the  Rev.  N.  L.  Frothingham.  To  the  hospitable 
mansion  of  her  uncle,  Mary  Ann  Phillips  often  resorted  from 
the  old  homestead  in  North  Andover,  and  thither  came  William 
Gray  Brooks  who  was  in  Boston  for  the  purpose  of  establishing 
himself  in  business. 

After  their  marriage  in  1833,  they  lived  for  several  years  at  the 
house  No.  56  High  Street,  then  occupied  by  residences.  Here 
Phillips  Brooks  was  born  December  13,  1835.  In  1842  the 
family  removed  to  No.  3  Rowe  Street.  The  change  was  neces- 
sitated by  the  encroachments  of  business,  and  in  part  by  the 
needs  of  a  larger  house  for  the  growing  family.  Rowe  Street 
has  since  disappeared  from  the  map  of  Boston,  merged  into 
Chauncy  Place,  of  which  it  was  the  continuation,  while  Chauncy 
Place  has  been  extended  to  Summer  Street.  When  Rowe 
Street  was  finally  demanded  for  the  expansion  of  trade,  the 
family  moved  once  more  and  took  up  its  abode  in  Hancock 
Street. 

In  this  modest  household  with  its  unconscious  accumulation 
of  ancestral  tendencies  and  forces,  we  are  struck  by  one  marked 
characteristic, — its  strong    family  feeling,  the  glad  recognition 


4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  that  bond  which  unites  the  members  in  living  relationship. 
To  this  result  its  isolation  contributed,  for  it  did  not  enter  the 
world  of  fashionable  society,  but  devoted  its  somewhat  limited 
resources  to  its  own  interior  development.  The  education  of 
the  children  became  the  supreme  motive.  The  home  life  shut 
them  up  with  the  parents  as  in  some  sacred  enclosure,  a  nursery 
for  great  opportunities  in  the  future.  The  father  and  mother 
appear  as  ruling  with  diligence  and  unquestioned  authority, 
while  beneath  their  authority  runs  the  principle  of  self-sacrifice, 
and  they  seem  to  live  only  for  the  welfare  of  the  children.  They 
were  interested,  not  so  much  for  themselves  in  the  increase  of 
their  own  joy  in  life  or  in  their  own  cultivation,  as  in  making  a 
larger  life  possible  for  the  children  whom  God  had  given  them. 
It  need  hardly  be  said  that  this  was  a  religious  family.  The 
usage  of  family  prayer  was  observed,  in  the  morning  before 
going  forth  to  the  work  of  the  day,  and  again  in  the  evening 
at  nine  o'clock.  The  evenings  were  spent  by  the  whole  family 
together  around  the  common  table  in  the  "back  parlor,"  the 
father  busy  at  literary  tasks  which  his  interests  and  ingenuity 
imposed  on  his  leisure;  the  mother  with  her  sewing,  and  with 
her  deeper  meditations,  and  the  boys  at  their  books  preparing 
the  lesson  for  the  next  day.  Visitors  came  in  occasionally  for 
a  call  or  to  spend  the  evening,  but  this  was  rare ;  the  avocations 
of  the  family  were  pursued  without  interruptions.  There  was 
abundance  of  hilarity,  and  boisterous  demonstration,  but  the 
undercurrent  flowed  in  a  channel  of  serious  and  direct  endeavor. 
This  home  for  the  children  was  interesting,  and  not  monotonous 
or  dull.  The  boys  did  not  fret  at  exclusion  from  richer  interests 
in  the  world  outside  or  long  to  escape  the  narrow  routine.  The 
evenings  at  home  were  made  attractive  in  some  way,  the  newest 
books  were  read  aloud,  the  fulfilment  of  duty  was  in  itself  a 
pleasure.  But  the  concentration  of  parental  love  upon  the 
children  must  after  all  have  been  the  secret  of  the  charm  which 
bound  the  children  to  their  home.  Such  a  sacrifice  had  its 
reward.  The  home  became  to  the  children  their  choicest  treasure, 
to  which  they  reverted  in  after  years,  when  its  diviner  meaning 
was  more  apparent.  When  Phillips  Brooks  left  home  for  the 
first  time  he  was  followed  by  letters  which  always  assured  him 
that  he  was  constantly  remembered,  and  never  at  any  moment 


ANCESTRY  5 

forgotten.  He  responded  to  this  affection  by  carrying  about 
with  him  the  memory  of  the  home  circle  as  a  picture  stamped 
upon  his  soul  in  colors  ineffaceable.  At  heart  he  always  re- 
mained a  "child  in  the  household"  until  father  and  mother 
were  withdrawn  from  the  world.  The  vision  of  that  unworldly, 
self-sacrificing  life  was  before  him  at  home  or  in  his  wanderings 
abroad,  nearer  to  him  than  any  other  experience. 

More  important  than  the  fixing  of  the  domicile  was  the  deter- 
mination of  the  religious  question  and  the  choice  of  a  place  of 
worship.  By  the  year  1833  the  schism  had  been  completed 
between  the  "Orthodox"  and  the  "Unitarian"  parties  in  the 
churches  of  Massachusetts.  The  Brooks  family  at  Medford 
under  the  pastoral  care  of  Dr.  Osgood  had  become  Unitarians, 
and  in  this  faith  the  father  of  Phillips  Brooks  had  been  reared. 
He  had  the  characteristics  of  his  family,  with  its  devotion  to 
affairs,  its  interest  in  this  present  world;  he  was  religious  also, 
and  reverent,  but  not  given  to  introvertiveness  or  contemplation, 
nor  seeking  the  assurance  of  an  inward  experience.  Like  his 
ancestors,  he  illustrated  the  gospel  of  the  secular  life,  faithful 
in  the  performance  of  duty,  quick  to  recognize  all  obligations. 
It  was  his  ideal  to  become  a  citizen  alive  to  civic  and  social 
relationships.  He  had  sympathy  for  all  things  human;  he 
watched  the  movements  affecting  the  interests  of  Boston  with 
keen  interest;  he  studied  men  and  his  judgment  of  men  and 
movements  was  characterized  by  sobriety  and  sanity.  He 
identified  himself  with  Boston  and  in  those  days  it  seemed  as  if 
Boston  were  identified  with  Unitarianism. 

The  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks  represented  another  tendency. 
She  carried  in  her  heart  the  ancestral  history  of  the  Phillips 
family.  She  was  not  an  intellectualist,  or  a  controversialist  in 
theology,  but  she  was  no  stranger  to  the  purpose  for  which  her 
father  and  grandfather  had  labored  and  sacrificed  in  founding 
the  institutions  on  Andover  Hill, — the  purpose  to  maintain  the 
old  Puritan  faith  in  its  integrity.  Her  religion  moved  in  the 
grooves  of  the  ancient  piety.  The  cognitive  power  of  feeling 
was  the  source  of  her  knowledge,  for  she  was  no  wide  or  discursive 
reader.  She  had  an  interior  life  more  real  than  the  phenomena 
of  the  passing  world.  If  her  range  of  interests  seemed  narrow 
in  comparison  with  the  outlook  of  her  husband,  yet  her  aspira- 


6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tion,  her  ambition,  had  a  world-wide  scope,  for  she  would  have 
all  men  everywhere  brought  under  the  control  of  her  dominant 
purpose.  The  subject  that  most  absorbed  her  imagination  was 
foreign  missions,  for  whose  success  she  hungered  and  prayed. 
She  had,  too,  a  powerful  will  for  the  accomplishment  of  great 
ends,  though  the  sphere  was  restricted  for  its  manifestation. 
The  study  of  her  family  history  afforded  her  a  picture  of  life, 
where  tragedies  in  the  loss  of  children  had  saddened  its  successive 
generations.  Something  of  the  sadness  which  had  become  a 
family  characteristic  was  written  on  her  features,  the  face  of 
one  subdued  by  the  possibilities  of  infinite  loss  in  an  uncertain 
world. 

When  the  father  and  mother  with  their  contrasted  tendencies, 
which  were  also  supplementary  to  each  other,  set  up  their  home 
in  Boston,  they  chose  the  First  Church,  then  situated  in  Chauncy 
Place,  as  their  place  of  worship.  Its  situation  was  conveni- 
ent; its  pastor,  Rev.  N.  L.  Frothingham,  was  their  kinsman;  its 
first  pastor  at  the  time  of  its  foundation  was  also  an  ancestor, 
the  Rev.  John  Cotton — a  consideration  of  no  slight  importance. 
For  six  years  this  arrangement  continued,  with  a  growing  restive- 
ness  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Brooks.  Religious  controversy  over  the 
points  at  issue  between  "Orthodoxy"  and  "Unitarianism"  was 
then  at  its  height,  disturbing  the  peace  of  congregations.  She 
was  familiar  with  the  staple  features  of  the  controversy  from 
her  childhood.  She  grew  more  and  more  dissatisfied  with  the 
teaching  at  the  First  Church.  Lines  which  at  first  were  vaguely 
drawn  were  more  sharply  drawn,  and  she  was  forced  to  come  to 
a  decision.  ^Dr.  Frothingham  was  known  as  a  conservative 
Unitarian,  with  no  sympathy  for  the  newer  mood  in  religion 
represented  by  Dr.  Channing.  The  doctrine  of  the  dignity 
of  man,  and  the  sufficiency  of  human  reason  he  condemned  as 
"the  apotheosis  of  human  nature,"  as  leading  man  to  "the  last 
delusion,  the  worship  of  himself."  He  maintained  a  reverence 
for  Holy  Scripture  as  the  authority  for  religious  faith.  But 
on  the  other  hand,  he  taught  with  emphasis  that  the  Bible 
gave  no  sanction  to  the  system  of  doctrine  known  as  Calvinism 
or  "Orthodoxy."  It  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Brooks  to  be  told 
that  her  religious  faith  and  that  of  her  ancestors  had  no  warrant 
in  Scripture.     Her  capacity  for  devotion,  her  possibilities  of 


ANCESTRY  7 

enthusiasm,  the  powerful  will,  the  longing  for  immediate  con- 
scious relationship  with  God,  the  desire  to  give  herself  in  com- 
plete self-sacrifice  to  Christ, — these  religious  instincts  found  no 
satisfaction  in  the  gentler  but  unheroic  gospel,  as  proclaimed 
by  Dr.  Frothingham. 

When  the  moment  came  for  a  readjustment  of  ecclesiastical 
relations,  she  did  not  seek  to  return  to  the  Orthodox  party  of 
the  Congregational  order.  Her  husband's  feelings  were  to  be 
considered  as  well  as  her  own.  The  compromise  was  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  where  the  familiar  gospel  was  preached  without 
the  painful  reminders  of  controversy  and  schism.  To  St.  Paul's 
Church,  on  Tremont  Street,  she  turned  as  affording  the  best 
possibilities  of  a  religious  home  for  herself,  and  especially  for  her 
children.  Her  husband  notes  the  change  in  his  journal  as  an 
important  movement,  under  the  date  October  18,  1839.  For 
himself,  he  confesses  his  indifference,  his  regret  at  leaving  his 
accustomed  place  of  worship.  He  had  given  up  his  own  inclina- 
tions to  please  his  wife,  for,  as  he  remarks,  "women  make  re- 
ligion more  a  matter  of  conscience  and  heart,  than  men  do." 
But  a  year  later,  he  records  in  his  journal  that  he  does  not  regret 
the  change.  He  finds  the  morning  service  rather  long  and  at 
times  tedious,  but  has  no  desire  to  return  to  the  church  he  had 
left.  At  the  time  when  the  change  was  made,  Phillips  Brooks 
was  four  years  old,  unable  to  remember  any  earlier  religious 
associations  than  those  connected  with  St.  Paul's  Church,  as  the 
church  of  his  infancy.  The  mother's  anxiety  for  the  religious 
welfare  of  her  husband  did  not  cease,  until  he  had  become 
like  herself  a  communicant,  and  not  merely  an  attendant  on  the 
worship.  His  confirmation  took  place,  in  1847,  when  he  had 
reached  the  age  of  forty-two.  The  elder  children  must  have 
been  present  as  witnesses  of  the  transaction,  Phillips  Brooks 
being  then  a  boy  of  twelve.  We  may  also  picture  the  mother, 
now  becoming  anxious  that  her  sons  should  soon  follow  their 
father  in  this  deed  of  self-consecration.  To  her  it  meant  in- 
expressible depths  of  gratitude,  and  hope,  and  yet  the  endless 
solicitude. 

It  might  have  seemed  as  though  in  throwing  in  her  lot  with 
the  Episcopal  Church,  Mrs.  Brooks  was  breaking  violently  with 
the  Puritan  traditions.     But  to  her  the  differences  seemed  un- 


8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

important.  In  the  preaching  of  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  Stone,  then 
rector  of  St  Paul's,  she  found  the  cultus  of  an  inward  experience, 
the  presentation  of  the  personal  Christ  as  the  motive  power  of 
true  religion.  Under  his  guidance  she  studied  the  Prayer  Book, 
and  found  solution  for  the  problems  which  confronted  her. 

The  coming  of  Dr.  Vinton  to  St.  Paul's  was  a  great  event  in 
the  Brooks  family,  destined  to  influence  its  fortunes  in  the  case 
of  all  the  children,  no  less  than  the  religious  life  and  belief  of 
the  parents.  In  the  year  1842,  when  he  began  his  rectorship, 
Phillips  Brooks  was  six  years  old,  and  from  that  time  until  he 
graduated  from  Harvard  College  and  entered  upon  the  prepara- 
tion for  the  ministry,  he  was  under  the  influence  of  this  strong 
personality.  Dr.  Vinton  had  a  majestic  appearance  in  the 
pulpit.  As  an  imposing  representative  of  the  clerical  profession, 
he  was  imaged  in  bronze  upon  the  Soldiers'  Monument  on 
Boston  Common,  in  the  act  of  blessing  the  troops  on  their 
departure  for  the  war.  In  the  Episcopal  Church  he  stood  as  its 
foremost  preacher,  influential  also  in  its  administrative  councils. 
He,  too,  like  Dr.  Stone,  was  of  the  evangelical  school,  enforcing 
the  atonement  of  Christ  as  the  supreme  doctrine  of  the  gospel, 
urging  also  an  inward  conversion  as  the  condition  of  its  accept- 
ance. He  had  the  evangelical  conception  of  the  pastor's 
office,  a  great  ideal,  which  he  had  left  the  medical  profession  in 
order  to  serve. 

Among  the  features  of  his  ministry  at  St.  Paul's,  one  of  the 
most  important  was  a  Bible  class,  where  he  explained  Christian 
doctrines,  or  commented  on  the  Epistle  and  Gospel  for  the  day, 
or  at  times  took  up  the  books  of  Scripture.  To  the  sessions  of 
this  Bible  class  Mrs.  Brooks  went  regularly,  going  with  a  purpose, 
in  order  that  she  might  better  teach  her  children.  She  gave 
to  them  in  her  own  impressive  way  what  Dr.  Vinton  had  given 
to  her.  In  this  task  of  teaching  her  children  religion  she  was 
indefatigable,  laboring  with  a  concentrated  purpose  in  season 
and  out  of  season,  never  for  a  moment  forgetful  of  her  mission, 
quick  to  seize  the  passing  moment  which  seemed  fertile  for 
opportunity,  but  withal  gentle  and  alluring,  and  making  religion 
attractive.  The  children's  earliest  remembrance  of  her  was 
at  their  bedside,  repeating  to  them  Bible  stories  as  they  were 
going  to  sleep.     She  did  not  relax  her  sense  of  religious  respon- 


EARLY  YEARS  9 

sibility  when  childhood  passed  into  youth.  Even  after  her 
sons  had  entered  the  ministry,  she  continued  to  watch  and  guard 
them  as  if  they  were  in  danger  of  beguilement  with  false  doctrines. 

On  Sundays  the  rule  was  to  go  to  church  twice.  It  was  also 
the  custom  of  the  children  to  learn  hymns  every  Sunday,  to  be 
recited  at  the  family  gathering  in  the  evening.  When  Phillips 
went  to  college  there  were  some  two  hundred  that  he  could 
repeat. 

The  life  of  the  children  was  diversified  by  visits  to  their  uncle's 
home  in  Medford,  and  especially  in  the  summers  to  the  old 
homestead  in  North  Andover,  where  the  grandmother  was  still 
living,  venerated  and  beloved.  Left  a  widow  at  a  comparatively 
early  age,  with  the  responsibilities  of  a  large  family  and  the 
trials  of  a  small  income,  she  had  maintained  herself  in  honor 
and  dignity,  making  her  home  an  attractive  spot,  the  centre  of 
interest  and  devotion  to  the  scattered  and  expanding  family, 
until  her  death  in  1856.  Susan  Phillips  formed  an  important 
part  of  the  household  from  the  first,  and  was  greatly  endeared 
to  all  her  nephews. 

When  he  was  four  years  old  Phillips  was  sent  to  a  private 
school  on  Bedford  Street  kept  by  Miss  Capen.  At  the  age  of 
eight  he  went  to  the  public  grammar  school,  known  as  the  Adams 
School,  situated  on  Mason  Street.  A  schoolmate  writes  of  him, 
that,  when  school  was  out,  he  never  went  with  the  other  boys 
to  the  near-by  Common  for  games,  but  took  his  way  down  West 
Street,  across  Washington,  down  Bedford  to  his  home.  From 
the  Adams  School  he  passed  at  the  age  of  eleven  to  the  Boston 
Latin  School  in  Bedford  Street,  remaining  there  for  five  years 
until  his  preparation  for  college  was  completed.  Mr.  E.  S. 
Dixwell  was  the  head -master  when  he  entered,  and  was  succeeded 
by  the  late  Mr.  Gardner  in  the  last  year  of  Phillips's  attendance. 
It  may  have  been  the  case  that  he  was  not  over  diligent  as  a 
pupil  at  first,  or  that  the  parents  at  home  lamented  some  lack 
of  devotion  to  his  studies.  Here  is  a  document  preserved,  a 
scrap  of  paper,  recording  a  great  resolution: 

"I,  Phillips  Brooks,  do  hereby  promise,  and  pledge  myself  to 
study,  henceforward,  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 

"  P.  Brooks. 

"March  8,  1848." 


io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

At  this  time  he  was  growing  rapidly,  having  reached,  when 
he  was  fourteen,  the  height  of  five  feet  eleven  inches,  a  circum- 
stance recorded  in  his  father's  journal.  He  is  recalled  as  carrying 
his  height  awkwardly,  leaning  to  one  side  as  he  walked,  or 
holding  to  his  older  brother's  arm.  The  Latin  School  gave  to 
him  the  full  benefit  of  its  famous  training  in  the  classics,  as  well 
as  the  taste  for  their  study.  But  it  is  in  his  literary  work  that 
the  interest  chiefly  centres,  where  may  be  traced  the  first  signs 
of  his  distinctive  power.  His  essays  are  preserved,  each  one 
carefully  written  in  his  best  style  of  penmanship.  His  hand- 
writing closely  resembled  that  of  his  father,  who  attached  im- 
portance to  these  things;  while  his  mother  was  more  indifferent, 
writing  rapidly  and  carelessly  from  a  full  heart,  only  anxious 
to  make  her  meaning  clear. 

In  his  early  essays  may  be  seen  the  characteristics  of  the  future 
man.  His  favorite  illustration  of  the  sunlight  of  truth  is  here. 
There  is  a  desire  to  get  all  the  aspects  of  the  subject.  There  is 
moral  purpose,  a  consciousness  as  if  he  were  responsible  for  the 
well-being  of  the  whole  world,  and  were  aiming  at  nothing  else; 
the  determination  to  secure  the  completest  self-culture.  He 
gives  the  rein  to  his  enthusiasm,  his  vocabulary  grows  richer, 
his  confidence  in  his  powers  increases.  There  is  still  formality 
of  expression  and  a  certain  old-fashioned  conventionality,  the  lim- 
ited range  of  a  schoolboy's  information.  But  his  own  thought 
and  observation  of  life,  whether  gained  by  books  or  by  expe- 
rience, are  uttered  with  a  deep  emphasis,  as  though  he  would 
have  been  driven  to  speak  by  the  impelling  power  of  his  own 
emotion.  One  can  discern  that  he  is  writing  better  than  he 
knows.  He  is  uttering  sentiments  which  will  be  the  staple  of 
his  teaching  as  a  mature  man.  It  is  unreal,  for  there  is  no 
experience  behind  it,  and  yet  it  is  prophetic,  giving  one  a  rever- 
ence for  the  early  stages  of  his  growth.  His  rank  in  his  class 
was  third,  when  he  graduated,  and  he  was  one  of  six  to  take  the 
Franklin  medal,  which  stood  for  excellence  in  the  final  examina- 
tions. What  the  Latin  School  had  been  to  him,  is  best  told  in 
his  "Address  at  the  250th  Anniversary,"  on  the  occasion  of  the 
dedication  of  its  present  building,  after  the  lapse  of  thirty  years 
since  he  left  it. 

In  1 85 1,  when  he  was  still  some  months  short  of  his  sixteenth 


HARVARD  COLLEGE  n 

birthday,  Phillips  Brooks  entered  Harvard  College  according  to 
the  custom  of  his  ancestors.  As  he  went  simply  from  Boston 
to  Cambridge,  it  was  not  like  leaving  home  for  college.  The  time 
from  Saturday  to  Monday  in  every  week  was  spent  with  his 
family.  He  attended  St.  Paul's  Church,  and  was  under  the 
same  parental  and  pastoral  influences  which  had  followed  him 
through  the  Latin  School.  Harvard  had  not  then  begun  to 
develop  into  a  university.  Its  distinction  lay  in  its  age  and  its 
traditions.  It  possessed  distinction  in  its  corps  of  teachers; 
literature  was  represented  by  Longfellow,  the  natural  sciences 
by  Agassiz  and  by  Asa  Gray;  Benjamin  Peirce  was  teacher  of 
mathematics;  Sophocles  and  Felton  stood  for  the  classics,  and 
Bowen  for  metaphysics;  Child  and  Lane  and  Cooke  were  young 
men,  beginning  their  long  and  honored  careers  as  teachers  in 
English,  in  Latin,  and  chemistry.  The  president  of  the  college 
from  1852  was  Dr.  James  Walker,  who  exerted  a  strong  influence 
on  the  young  men,  both  in  the  pulpit  and  the  classroom,  whose 
high  character  was  recognized,  admired,  and  imitated. 

The  total  number  of  students  in  the  college  in  1851  was  304, 
and  in  all  the  departments,  626.  The  library  contained  60,000 
volumes.  Attendance  at  prayers  was  required  twice  every  day 
and  once  at  church  on  Sundays.  The  hour  of  daily  morning 
prayers  was  seven  o'clock  from  September  to  April,  and  six 
o'clock  from  April  to  the  close  of  the  college  year.  Three  recita- 
tions were  made  each  day  with  sufficient  intervals  between  for 
the  preparation  of  lessons:  from  eight  to  nine,  from  twelve  to 
one,  and  from  five  to  six. 

Phillips  Brooks  became  a  Harvard  man  at  once,  throwing 
himself  into  college  life,  reflecting  that  peculiar  quality  with 
which  Harvard  stamps  her  children.  He  became  a  member  of 
the  Institute,  of  Alpha  Delta  Phi,  the  Hasty  Pudding  Club,  and 
of  Phi  Beta  Kappa.  He  took  his  part  in  the  Pudding  theatricals, 
but  his  cast  was  generally  determined  by  his  height,  which 
according  to  his  father's  measurement  on  his  entering  college 
was  six  feet  three  and  one  half  inches.  The  studies  in  which  he 
excelled  were  the  languages.  In  Greek  he  took  uniformly  the 
highest  mark,  and  was  very  close  to  the  highest  in  Latin.  Of 
French  he  had  a  good  reading  knowledge  but  paid  no  attention 
to  its  refinements.     German  he  took  as  an  elective  and  became 


i2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

able  to  read  it  with  comparative  ease.  He  does  not  appear  to 
have  aimed  at  high  standing  in  his  class,  but  to  have  been  fitting 
himself  for  a  teacher's  profession,  where  his  preference  would 
have  been  the  Greek  language  and  literature.  In  other  studies, 
his  standing  was  not  a  high  one,  but  he  had  a  peculiar  gift  which 
always  enabled  him  to  succeed  at  an  examination.  Whatever 
might  have  been  his  grade  mark  for  the  daily  recitation,  his 
mark  at  an  examination  was  apt  to  be  a  high  one,  not  seldom  the 
maximum. 

His  grade  was  not  as  high  as  one  might  have  expected  in  such 
work  as  forensics  and  themes,  nor  did  he  give  any  sign  of  becom- 
ing an  orator.  It  is  recalled  of  him  in  his  college  days  that  he 
despised  elocution  as  at  war  with  naturalness  and  simplicity. 
But  he  could  not  have  been  wholly  unattractive  or  without 
impressiveness  as  a  speaker  even  in  his  college  days,  though  still 
awkward  and  embarrassed  by  shyness.  His  earliest  delivery 
was  identical  in  manner  with  his  latest,  marked  by  the  same 
extraordinary  rapidity  of  utterance.  This  rapidity  of  speech  was 
constitutional;  it  was  not  adopted  to  cover  any  natural  defect, 
such  as  stammering ;  it  was  the  natural  expression  of  the  man. 

His  standing  when  he  graduated  was  thirteenth  in  a  class 
numbering  sixty-six.  His  concentration  on  the  classics,  taking 
easily  the  other  work  required,  enabled  him  to  turn  to  literature, 
where  his  reading  was  large  and  wisely  chosen.  Here  he  was 
pursuing  an  independent  development  unshackled  by  prescrip- 
tion or  authority.  Inspiring  as  were  his  teachers,  there  was  no 
dominating  influence,  carrying  him  away  captive  to  some  other 
power  than  his  own.  The  work  he  was  doing  for  himself  was 
quite  as  important  as  that  done  for  him.  He  did  not  at  first 
turn  to  the  great  writers  who  were  then  moulding  the  thoughts 
of  their  generation,  but  to  the  older  school  represented  by 
Walter  Scott  and  Washington  Irving.  To  the  writers  of  the 
eighteenth  century  he  seems  to  have  been  particularly  drawn,  to 
Boswell's  Johnson,  Johnson  himself,  Goldsmith,  Dryden,  Swift, 
Leigh  Hunt,  Hume,  and  others.  The  poets  of  the  eighteenth 
century  and  of  the  early  nineteenth  had  for  him  a  special  charm. 
He  read  Shakespeare  and  books  illustrating  his  age.  He  took 
up  Lamb  and  Southey,  but  did  not  so  early  discover  Milton, 
Coleridge,  or  Wordsworth.     There  was  a  calming  influence  in 


HARVARD  COLLEGE  13 

these  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  with  their  simple  world, 
at  wide  remove  from  the  desire  for  reforms,  the  agitation,  the 
aspirations,  the  new  interpretations  of  the  age  into  which  he 
was  born.  Here  lay  something  of  the  preparation  for  his  life 
work.  He  gained  a  picture  of  life  in  another  age,  which  afforded 
a  basis  for  comparison  and  criticism  when  he  should  come  to  the 
work  of  his  own  time.  He  learned  to  know  and  to  honor  the 
purely  human  amidst  the  disguises  of  past  generations.  These 
writers  of  the  eighteenth  century  harmonized  with  his  favorite 
classics,  reflecting  their  influence  and  something  of  their  outlook 
on  life. 

Later  in  his  college  course  he  turned  to  writers  of  his  own  age. 
Among  the  books  which  left  an  impression  was  Carlyle's  Life 
of  Cromwell.  It  created  a  deep  interest  in  the  names  asso- 
ciated with  the  Puritan  struggle.  From  that  time  he  began  to 
be  at  home  with  its  personages,  with  Milton  and  Baxter  and 
Jeremy  Taylor;  measuring  its  issues  and  growing  stronger  by 
their  contemplation.  In  after  life  it  was  his  ambition  to  write 
a  Life  of  Cromwell,  for  which  he  made  preparation  by  collecting 
materials  in  his  visits  to  England.  Carlyle's  Heroes  and  Hero- 
Worship  became  a  handbook  for  a  time.  The  French  Revo- 
lution he  admired  to  the  last,  as  a  masterpiece  of  art,  but  for 
Sartor  Resartus  he  came  to  have  a  feeling  of  contempt  as  a 
hollow  and  superficial  cry.  He  read  Emerson,  but  there  are  no 
traces  of  an  influence  upon  his  mind,  such  as  Carlyle  produced. 
The  writer  who  exerted  the  strongest  influence  was  Tennyson. 
In  Memoriam  had  been  published  in  1849.  From  the  time  he 
read  it,  it  kept  running  in  his  head;  he  imitated  its  metres  and 
its  subjects  in  poetic  efforts  of  his  own. 

A  classmate  of  Phillips  Brooks  at  Harvard  recalls  his  physical 
inactivity.  He  took  no  part  in  games  or  athletic  sports.  He 
did  not  care  much  for  walking;  it  was  hard  to  drag  him  out  for 
a  walk.  But  on  the  other  hand  his  "intellectual  faculties  were 
in  course  of  rapid  yet  not  too  rapid  development.  He  read 
largely  and,  though  not  superficially,  yet  with  an  extraordinary 
speed.  He  was  endowed  with  a  marvellous  gift  of  very  rapidly 
taking  in  a  printed  page."  His  intellectual  force  is  revealed  in 
a  series  of  essays,  written  to  be  read  before  the  various  societies 
to  which  he  belonged.     In  them  may  be  seen  unusual  gifts  of 


i4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

expression,  a  varied  vocabulary,  together  with  insight  and 
maturity  of  thought.  Among  other  characteristics  here  dis- 
closed is  the  power  of  observation, — the  gift  of  seeing  clearly 
and  distinctly,  and  of  seeing  things  in  their  relations.  "What  he 
learned  from  books  and  teachers  was  important  but  was  a  small 
part  of  his  equipment  compared  with  what  he  gained  from  the 
observation  of  life.  To  this  gift  was  joined  another,  the  power 
of  imagination,  enabling  him  to  enter  wide  realms  of  experience, 
through  no  experience  of  his  own.  He  was  gaining  that  know- 
ledge of  the  world  of  which  Goethe  has  remarked  that  it  is 
"inborn  with  the  genuine  poet,  so  that  he  needs  not  much  ex- 
perience or  varied  observation  to  represent  it  adequately." 

One  of  these  college  essays  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  for  it 
took  the  first  Bowdoin  prize  in  his  Junior  year, — "The  Teaching 
of  Tacitus  regarding  Fate  and  Destiny."  Here  he  may  be  seen 
delving  in  the  sources,  and  drawing  his  own  conclusions,  re- 
constructing a  distant  age  by  his  imagination,  analyzing  a 
personality,  applying  to  Tacitus  and  his  age  the  law  of  human 
development.  To  the  Harvard  Monthly  of  1854,  he  contributed 
a  paper  on  "The  English  Table  Talkers,"  which  has  one  sentence 
worth  citing  in  view  of  his  career:  "Men  like  to  be  talked  to 
better  than  to  be  preached  at;  they  prefer  the  easy  chair  to  the 
pulpit."  The  point  with  which  he  is  mainly  concerned  is  that 
the  secret  of  charm  in  all  these  talkers  lies  in  their  unveiling  of 
themselves,  so  that  we  see  the  simple,  natural,  unaffected  men, 
"the  least  artificial  of  men  in  their  least  artificial  mood."  In 
this  same  essay,  when  speaking  of  Walpole,  he  gives  his  estimate 
of  the  value  of  letter  writing:  "Men  do  not  drop  true  genius 
into  the  post-office  or  trust  the  evidence  of  a  great  soul  to  the 
letter  bag."  To  this  judgment,  he  seems  to  have  adhered 
throughout  his  life,  with  some  few  notable  exceptions. 

When  we  turn  from  literary  influences  to  inquire  what  forces 
were  acting  upon  his  religious  life,  we  are  met  with  reserve  and 
an  almost  unfathomable  silence.  He  kept  no  journal  to  record 
his  impressions  or  his  aspirations.  It  could  not  have  been  long 
before  he  felt  the  expansion  of  his  religious  horizon,  in  whose 
unaccustomed  vastness  many  familiar  landmarks  must  have 
shifted  their  relative  positions.  In  these  years  great  changes  were 
taking  place  in  the  religious  world.     But  New  England  differed 


HARVARD  COLLEGE  15 

widely  in  its  distinctive  religious  development  from  the  mother 
country.  Harvard  was  a  stranger  to  any  such  religious  reformer 
as  John  Henry  Newman.  Phillips  Brooks  does  not  seem  to  have 
heard  of  Newman  while  in  college.  Next  to  Emerson,  who  to 
some  extent  was  one  of  his  religious  teachers,  the  most  potent 
influence  disturbing  familiar  convictions  was  Theodore  Parker. 
Since  1852  he  had  been  preaching  in  the  Boston  Music  Hall.  In 
1852  he  published  his  Ten  Sermons  of  Religion,  and  in  1853 
his  Theism,  Atheism,  and  the  Popular  Theology.  He  was 
at  once  the  delight  of  some,  but  the  terror  of  the  many.  There 
was  sensitiveness  on  the  subject  in  the  Brooks  household.  The 
mother  was  alarmed  at  the  growth  of  his  influence.  Whether 
Phillips  Brooks  listened  at  any  time  to  Parker's  preaching,  or 
had  at  this  stage  of  his  life  read  any  of  Parker's  sermons,  is  not 
known. 

It  was  the  essence  of  Parker's  teaching  that  the  divine  revela- 
tion must  be  submitted  to  the  tribunal  of  human  reason.  No 
external  authority  must  be  allowed  to  overawe  the  soul  of  man 
made  in  the  divine  image,  with  the  capacities  of  the  divine 
nature,  and  endowed  by  the  divine  will  with  insight  and  author- 
ity. This  was  the  clash  and  struggle  of  the  middle  of  the  century, 
On  the  one  side,  Newman,  pleading  for  the  submission  of  the  soul, 
without  examination,  to  external  authority,  and  on  the  other 
hand,  Parker,  demanding  the  soul's  emancipation  from  obe- 
dience or  even  deference  to  any  tradition. 

Connected  with  this  conflict  was  that  phenomenon  so  com- 
mon in  this  period,  what  is  called  "religious  doubt."  It  affected 
young  men  in  the  universities  wherever  thought  had  been 
awakened.  Tennyson  had  illustrated  it  in  his  In  Memoriam. 
For  those  to  whom  it  would  be  moral  and  intellectual  suicide 
to  submit  to  Newman's  guidance,  but  did  not  feel  competent 
to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  issues  of  the  traditional  faith, 
Tennyson  became  for  the  time  a  religious  teacher,  as  well  as  the 
truest  of  poets. 

In  the  soul  of  Phillips  Brooks  there  was  some  disturbance. 
He  delayed  presenting  himself  for  the  rite  of  confirmation.  His 
ancestors  had  gone  through  religious  experience  while  in  col- 
lege, which  ended  in  joining  the  Church,  at  an  early  age.  But 
he  continued  to  postpone  the  decisive  act  during  his  years  in 


16  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

college.  There  was  a  religious  society  in  the  college,  the  Chris- 
tian Brethren,  in  which  one  of  his  ancestors  had  been  prominent, 
but  of  this  he  was  not  a  member.  His  college  essays  reveal  no 
tendency  to  dwell  upon  the  subject  of  religion.  This  is  in  con- 
trast to  his  theses  in  the  Latin  School.  His  earlier  boyish 
efforts  expressed  religious  faith  based  on  the  home  teaching,  in 
emphatic  and  even  enthusiastic  form,  but  it  was  premature  and 
unreal.  A  profound  and  independent  process  was  required 
before  it  became  in  the  realest  sense  his  own.  When  he  returned 
to  the  formulas,  so  easily  accepted  at  first,  it  would  be  with  a 
consciousness  of  appropriation,  making  them  new.  We  may 
surmise  the  working  of  his  spirit  at  this  moment.  There  were 
depths  in  his  nature  which  had  not  been  reached  by  the  minis- 
trations of  his  pastor.  There  was  a  reconciliation  to  be  accom- 
plished between  what  he  had  been  taught  by  others  and  what 
he  was  learning  by  himself. 

When  he  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1855  he  was  but  nineteen, 
his  twentieth  birthday  being  six  months  distant.  He  was  still 
a  boy  in  feeling  and  manner.  How  he  then  appeared  to  a  timid 
Freshman,  looking  up  to  the  Seniors  with  too  great  deference, 
is  told  by  one  who  sat  at  the  same  table  with  him,  observing  the 
grace  of  his  ways  and  fascinated  by  the  wonderful  charm  of  his 
face.  He  would  take  the  opportunity  to  push  dishes  to  the  end 
of  the  table,  where  the  Freshmen  sat,  who  would  otherwise  have 
failed  to  get  their  rightful  share.  He  took  one  of  the  Freshmen 
aside  on  one  occasion,  and  solemnly  urged  him  to  greater  self- 
assertion.  The  college,  he  said  to  him,  really  belonged  to  the 
Freshman  class,  who  were  just  entering  and  had  their  college 
life  before  them,  rather  than  to  the  Seniors,  like  himself,  who 
had  had  their  day  and  were  about  to  leave. 

A  prominent  feature  in  the  character  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
throughout  his  life,  was  his  reserve.  It  manifested  itself  at  Har- 
vard in  refusal  to  talk  of  himself  or  of  his  purpose  in  life.  His 
manner  is  remembered  as  quiet  and  undemonstrative,  not  par- 
ticularly noticeable  in  any  way.  Among  his  friends  he  displayed 
that  fine  capacity  for  trifling  which  certainly  did  not  diminish 
in  his  later  years.  One  of  his  classmates,  Mr.  G.  C.  Sawyer, 
contributes  this  picture  from  memory: 


HARVARD  COLLEGE  17 

"Phillips  Brooks,  though  a  quiet  man  in  college  days,  was  the 
brilliant  writer,  taking  prizes  for  English  essays  and  doing  the 
best  writing  at  all  times  in  the  various  societies  to  which  he  be- 
longed. At  the  same  time  it  was,  I  remember,  noticeable  how, 
outside  of  this  literary  vein  so  markedly  brilliant,  he  did  not, 
except  occasionally,  let  himself  out  in  conversation.  He  was 
playful,  even  boyish,  at  times  bright  and  witty  in  his  speech.  He 
distinctly  refused,  as  in  later  years,  to  be  drawn;  and  I  callto 
mind  one  time  when  an  importunate  classmate,  more  obtrusive 
than  considerate,  had  forced  him  to  a  long  walk  for  the  too  mani- 
fest purpose  of  drawing  him  into  literary  or  philosophic  converse, 
came  back,  to  the  amusement  of  those  of  us  who  knew  Brooks's 
moods  better,  quite  discomfited  at  having  got  from  him  little  but 
the  persiflage  which  on  occasions  he  understood  so  well  how  to 
use. 

"Thus  early  in  life  he  was  distinguished  by  nothing  more  than 
by  a  dislike  of  show  and  of  putting  himself  or  his  opinions  for- 
ward. At  the  same  time  there  never  was  a  doubt  in  the  minds 
of  his  college  friends  or  his  instructors  that  underneath  lay  a  rich 
vein,  so  deep  down  that  it  promised  when  worked  to  be  developed 
into  products  of  marvellous  value.  Even  then  he  had,  I  may  say, 
his  worshippers,  who  foretold  great  things  of  him.  But  then.^  as 
afterwards,  he  was  always  noticeable  for  putting  aside  anything 
that  looked  like  adulation  even  from  friends.  His  best  efforts 
seemed  to  come  easily  and  naturally. 

"The  lines  of  Wordsworth  come  to  me  in  thinking  of  those 
youthful  days  when,  with  his  great  powers  still  in  their  formative 
state,  he  went  in  and  out  among  us,  'moving  about  in  worlds  not 
realized.' " 

Whether  he  had  thought  of  the  Christian  ministry  as  his 
future  vocation  is  uncertain.  He  was  aware  of  the  prevailing 
sentiment  among  young  men  of  his  age,  that  the  Church  did  not 
offer  the  prospect  of  the  highest  usefulness.  But  the  result  of 
his  years  at  Harvard  had  been  of  a  nature  to  prepare  him  directly 
for  his  sacred  calling.  "  He  was  that  rare  and  blessed  creature," 
as  was  said  of  Arthur  Hallam,  "anima  naturaliter  Christiana." 
Much  yet  remained  to  be  done  before  his  preparation  would 
be  complete.  When  he  left  college,  he  was  a  humanist,  dwelling 
on  the  sacredness,  the  beauty,  and  the  joy  of  the  secular  life. 
The  tendencies  inherited  from  his  father's  family  were  upper- 
most. But  there  was  another  inheritance  from  his  mother  and 
his  stricter  Puritan  ancestry,  the  God  consciousness  with  which 
he  must  reckon  in  the  future.     Signs  of  its  presence  were  not 


i8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

wanting;  its  latent  force  may  have  deterred  him  from  too  easily- 
making  the  formal  profession  of  the  Christian  life.  But  he 
himself  is  the  best  commentator  on  the  significance  and  result 
of  these  early  years.  In  a  sermon  on  the  "Sacredness  of  Life" 
(1882)  he  has  given  a  glimpse  of  his  autobiography  at  this  turning 
point  in  his  career.  No  one  realized  more  intensely  than  he  the 
significance  of  the  landmarks  of  life.1 

»  Cf.  New  Starts  in  Life,  and  other  Sermons,  by  Phillips  Brooks,  pp.  108/f. 


CHAPTER  II. 

1855-1856. 

FAILURE  AS  A  TEACHER   IN  THE    BOSTON  LATIN    SCHOOL. 
EXTRACTS       FROM       NOTE-BOOK.  BEGINNINGS       OF 

RELIGIOUS      EXPERIENCE.         DEPARTURE       FOR      THE 
THEOLOGICAL    SEMINARY    OF    VIRGINIA. 

\J  After  leaving  college,  Phillips  Brooks  took  the  position  of  a 
teacher  in  the  Boston  Latin  School,  beginning  his  work  there 
in  September,  1855,  not  yet  having  reached  his  twentieth  birth- 

•  day.  It  does  not  appear  as  a  mere  temporary  expedient;  adopted 
until  he  could  look  about  for  some  other  and  better  opening  in 
life.  He  had  formed  a  plan  of  remaining  for  a  while  in  the  Latin 
School  to  gain  experience  and  then  to  go  abroad  for  study  in 
order  to  fit  himself  for  a  professorship.  Beneath  the  nonchalant 
tone  of  college  talk  there  existed  a  high  ideal.  He  writes  to 
one  of  his  classmates,  soon  after  he  had  entered  on  his  work: 
"Seriously,  I  like  the  life.  Is  n't  there  a  sort  of  satisfaction 
and  pleasure  in  knowing  that  you  are  doing,  or  at  least  have  the 
chance  of  doing  something.  At  Cambridge  it  was  all  very  well, 
but  we  had  only  ourselves  to  work  on.  Here  we  ha\^e  some 
twenty,  thirty,  or  forty  on  whom  we  can  bring  to  bear  the  author- 
ity and  influence  of  a  superior  position  and  see  what  we  can  make 
out  of  them  and  watch  all  their  workings.  You  think  this  is  a 
funny  way  for  me  to  talk,  but  I  really  think  so. "  He  was  well 
fitted  for  his  position  so  far  as  intellectual  equipment  went.    He 

.  taught  Greek  and  Latin,  the  studies  he  had  specially  cultivated 
while  in  college;  but  he  found  it  necessary  to  acquire  a  more 
competent  knowledge  of  French,  which  he  had  taken  easily. 
In  this  he  did  not  succeed  so  well  as  he  wished.  He  speaks 
of  his  teaching  French  as  slip-shod  work,  which  he  would  like 
to  escape  from  to  firmer  ground.     For  the  first  two  months  or 

19 


2o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

more,  things  went  pleasantly  with  him;  "everything,"  he  writes, 
"is  working  in  the  quiet  regular  way  in  which  it  has  settled  for 
the  winter."  But  hardly  had  the  winter  opened  when  trouble 
set  in,  serious  trouble,  since  he  could  write  to  his  college  friend 
and  say  of  the  class  he  was  teaching,  "They  are  the  most 
disagreeable  set  of  creatures  without  exception  I  ever  met 
with}';  or  again,  speaking  of  himself,  "I  am  tired,  sick,  cross, 
and^almost  dead."  In  a  letter  dated  January  19,  1856,  it  is 
evident  that  the  situation  is  a  strained  one,  and  that  failure  is 
impending : 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  last  letter  and  the 
sympathy  which  you  express  with  the  laboring  ruler  of  my  rebel- 
lious subjects.  1  have  had  very  considerable  trouble,  but  matters 
have  lately  been  getting  a  little  better.  Things  have  settled 
down  into  a  strong  feeling  of  quiet  hate,  which  is  eminently 
conducive  to  good  order  and  rapid  progress.  In  all  my  expe- 
rience of  schoolboys  and  schoolmasters  I  cannot  recall  a  single 
teacher  who  was  honored  with  such  an  overwhelming  share  of 
deep,  steady,  honest  unpopularity  as  is  at  this  moment  the  lot 
of  your  harmless  and  inoffensive  friend.  I  believe  they  consider 
me  just  now  as  a  sort  of  dragon  with  his  claws  cut,  a  gigantic 
ogre  who  would  like  to  eat  them,  but  has  n't  the  stomach  to  do 
it.  If  I  should  adopt  your  plan  of  weekly  receptions  I  should 
deem  it  safe  first  to  procure  a  complete  suit  of  chain  armor  to  be 
privately  worn  so  that  not  a  heel  might  be  exposed  to  the  assas- 
sin's knife  of  some  bloody  members  of  the  Third  Class  of  the 
Public  Latin  School.  It  may  be  needful  to  explain  that  I  have 
changed  my  class.  The  one  I  had  before  were  splendid  little 
fellows;  these  are  tough  old  sinners  with  the  iniquity  of  some 
sixteen  springs,  summers,  autumns,  and  winters  on  their  grim 
hoary  heads.  I  am  teaching  them  French  which  they  don't, 
Greek  which  they  won't,  and  Virgil  which  they  can't  understand 
or  appreciate.  .  .  .  The  idea  of  asking  me  whether  I  have 
read  any  books!  I  work  like  a  dog  in  school  and  out,  and  the 
Lord  knows  where  it  is  going  to  end.  You  must  excuse  this 
very  selfish  letter.  It  is  a  great  relief  and  pleasure  to  talk  with 
you  even  on  paper  and  on  so  poor  and  trite  a  subject  as  a  dis- 
comfited usher.  Let  me  hear  from  you  when  you  can,  and  if 
you  know  of  a  profitable  school  anywhere  in  the  country  just 
drop  a  line  to  your  downtrodden  friend." 

By  February,  1856,  the  trouble  had  culminated  and  he  was 
obliged  to  abandon  his  place.  Under  the  date  February  8th,  his 
father  records  in  his  journal: 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  21 

"An  occurrence  took  place  to-day  that  has  given  us  some  anx- 
iety, that  of  son  Phillips's  inability  to  maintain  his  position  as  usher 
in  the  Latin  School.  It  was  entirely  for  the  want  of  discipline. 
He  was  not  enough  of  a  disciplinarian  to  maintain  the  necessary 
good  order,  and  he  was  put  at  the  head  of  a  class  of  thirty-five 
boys  that  were  rowdy  and  unruly  and  had  already  had  two  mas- 
ters who  had  left  them.  Not  receiving  the  necessary  assistance 
and  advice  from  the  Principal,  I  was  obliged  to  advise  his  resig- 
nation. The  class  of  boys  were  from  fifteen  to  seventeen  years  of 
age,  and  he  is  but  twenty.  The  task  was  too  much  for  him,  and 
he  is  now  looking  for  work." 

The  failure  of  Phillips  Brooks  on  the  threshold  of  life  was 
conspicuous  and  complete,  momentous  also,  and,  it  may  be 
said  in  view  of  his  later  career,  providential.  The  following 
reminiscence  communicated  to  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society,  after  Brooks's  death,  by  its  president,  Mr.  Charles 
Francis  Adams,  shows  the  impression  the  event  made  on  others: 

"  I  cannot  remember  the  time  when  I  did  not  know  Phillips 
Brooks.  He  was  my  second  cousin,  for  his  father  and  my  mother 
were  cousins-german.  So,  at  almost  the  first  school  I  ever 
went  to, — a  little  dame  school  kept  in  a  small  wooden  house  then 
standing  on  Bedford  Street,  immediately  in  the  rear  of  Church 
Green,  as  the  enclosure  on  Summer  Street  was  called  whereon 
stood  the  New  South  meeting-house,  in  which  Dr.  Alexander 
Young  then  ministered, — in  this  antiquated  little  wooden 
edifice,  long  since  removed,  Phillips  Brooks  and  I  learned  our 
letters;  both  of  us,  I  take  it,  then  being  about  the  age  of  five  or 
six.  Some  eight  or  ten  years  later,  I  next  met  him  at  the  Boston 
Latin  School,  where  he  was  one  year  in  advance  of  me.  Later  on 
we  were  in  college  together;  he  still  a  year  ahead,  graduating  in 
1855.  Of  him  at  Cambridge  I  retain  a  distinct  and  pleasant  re- 
collection, for  we  were  in  many  of  the  same  societies,  and  he  had 
already  evinced  that  peculiar  facility  of  written  expression  in 
which  afterwards  he  won  renown,  and  he  was  always  chosen  as 
a  matter  of  course  to  deliver  society  orations  and  read  literary 
papers.  .  .  .  Those  were  indeed  golden,  precious  days, — 
those  days  passed  in  the  June  sunshine  of  the  college  grounds 
with  young  men  who  seemed  in  no  way  unusual  in  our  every-day 
eyes,  but  who  in  fact  were  filled,  as  the  result  soon  showed,  with 
infinite  possibilities,  the  Bayards  and  Sidneys  and  Bossuets  of 
the  fast-coming  years, — days  I  failed,  as  under  like  circumstances 
we  all  of  us  always  fail,  to  appreciate  at  the  time,  and  so  grasp 
them  and  delight  in  them  as  they  pass.     .     .     . 

"  After  Brooks  graduated,  he  became  one  of  the  ushers  at  the 


22  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Boston  Latin  School,  then  presided  over  by  Francis  Gardner, — a 
man  whom  many  here  will  remember,  rough  and  harsh  in  exterior, 
but  not  without  a  kindly  side  for  those  whom  he  liked.  To  those 
he  did  not  like  a  harder  and  less  charitable  man  it  would  not  be 
easy  to  find;  and  those  who  knew  both  Francis  Gardner  and 
Phillips  Brooks  would  feel  instinctively  at  once  that  Francis 
Gardner  could  never  have  taken  kindly  to  Phillips  Brooks. '? .   .   . 

1 '  While  Phillips  Brooks  was  thus  earning  his  living  as  usher  at 
the  Boston  Latin  School  and  waiting  for  the  future  to  reveal  it- 
self to  him,  I  was  studying  law  in  the  office  of  Richard  H.  Dana. 
I  soon  learned  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  in  trouble.  The  master 
complained  that  the  usher  had  in  him  no  single  element  of  a 
successful  school-teacher, — that  he  was  unable  to  maintain 
order  among  the  boys  in  his  room,  and,  in  short,  that  the  good 
of  the  school  peremptorily  required  an  immediate  change.  The 
change  accordingly  was  decided  on,  and  Brooks's  resignation 
called  for.  But  the  young  man  selected  to  take  his  place  was 
not  immediately  available,  and  a  question  arose  as  to  what  was 
to  be  done  during  the  intervening  time, — a  period  perhaps  of 
two  or  three  weeks.  Moved,  probably,  more  by  the  humor  of 
the  thing  than  by  any  other  motive,  and  not  unwilling  to  try  my 
hand  in  a  new  field,  I  suggested  that  I  should  make  the  experi- 
ment of  taking  charge  of  Brooks's  room  until  the  new  master 
came.  Years  before  I  had  been  in  Mr.  Gardner's  classes,  and  he 
saw  fit  to  receive  the  suggestion  with  favor,  though  at  first 
somewhat  amused  by  it,  as  he  had  never  looked  on  me  as  a  possi- 
ble instructor  of  youth;  but  I  am  led  to  believe  that  he  expressed 
his  conclusions  in  terms  not  necessarily  complimentary  to 
either  Brooks  or  myself,  intimating  in  his  usual  rough  way  that 
any  change,  no  matter  what,  could  hardly  fail  to  be  for  the  better. 
He  thought,  however,  that  in  common  decency  the  opportunity 
should  be  given  Brooks  to  remain  until  his  successor  appeared, 
though  he  hardly  believed  he  would  do  so.  But  in  this  Master 
Gardner  was  mistaken.  Phillips  Brooks,  though  both  discour- 
aged and  cut  to  the  quick  by  his  failure,  did  wish  to  remain  until 
his  successor  appeared;  and  as  my  services  were  thus  dispensed 
with,  I  never  occupied  an  usher's  chair. 

"  Now  comes  the  point  of  my  reminiscence.  Shortly  after  this, 
as  I  was  told  at  the  time  and  have  since  seen  no  occasion  to  dis- 
believe, Phillips  Brooks — humiliated,  discouraged,  utterly  broken 
down,  indeed,  by  his  complete  failure  at  the  threshold  of  life,  not 
seeing  well  or  at  all  in  what  direction  to  turn  or  to  apply  his 
hand — went  despondently  to  some  man  in  his  family  acquaint- 
ance of  assured  success,  and  in  the  depth  of  his  disappointment 
and  mortification  asked  him  for  advice, — could  he  suggest  any 
way  in  which  it  would  be  possible  for  him,  the  recent  graduate 
and  the  future  great  preacher,  to  earn  a  living !     .     .     . 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  23 

"  This  experience  of  Phillips  Brooks,  the  memory  of  which  I  do 
not  doubt  he  carried  with  him  to  the  end, — and  he,  too,  I  fancy, 
like  myself,  though  for  other  reasons,  felt  a  sense  of  satisfaction, 
approaching  relief,  when  that  gloomy,  ugly  Latin  School  edifice 
in  Bedford  Street  was  levelled  with  the  ground  and  a  thorough- 
fare made  to  occupy  the  site  where  it  stood,  for  it  recalled  no 
pleasant  memories  to  either  of  us, — that  early,  mortifying  Latin 
School  experience,  I  say,  Phillips  Brooks  doubtless  carried  freshly 
with  him  to  the  grave." 

It  seems  to  have  been  an  accident  which  defeated  BrookVs^ 
purpose  to  make  teaching  his  profession  in  life.  If  he  had  not  \ 
been  transferred  from  the  charge  of  one  of  the  younger  classes 
to  a  class  which  had  made  itself  a  reputation  for  mischief  and 
turbulence,  and  had  already  succeeded  in  ousting  his  two  prede- 
cessors; or  if  he  could  have  had  the  proper  backing  from  the 
head-master  in  efforts  to  control  it;  if  he  had  possessed  age  and 
experience  and  self -discipline,  instead  of  coming  directly  to  his 
difficult  task  from  the  spontaneity  and  irresponsibility  of  col- 
lege life;  or  if  he  had  been  less  quick  in  his  sense  of  humor,  or 
not  so  embarrassed  by  a  constitutional  shyness — if  these  and 
other  conditions  are  granted,  it  can  be  conceived  that  his  work 
might  have  been  successful.  But  it  is  the  misery  of  such  failures 
as  this  that  they  cannot  at  the  time  be  explained. 
v^  It  was  then  a  catastrophe  complete,  final,  and  humiliating. 
To  have  sought  for  another  similar  position  under  the  circum- 
stances was  hopeless.  The  head-master  had  offered  consolation 
to  Brooks  after  his  discomfiture,  in  the  remark  that  he  had 
never  known  any  one  who  failed  as  schoolmaster  to  succeed  in 
any  other  calling.1  It  was  an  event  calling  for  comment  among 
a  large  circle  of  acquaintances,  who  had  expected  great  things. 

.    Nothing  was  wanting  to  make  the  sense  of  mortification  supreme. 

•  And  no  one  could  know  at  the  time,  that  in  the  failure  lay  the 
germ  of  his  later  triumph.  It  was  as  if  the  world  spirit  had 
already  fastened  upon  him  for  its  own,  and  resented  the  pos- 
sibility of  his  loss  to  its  own  mysterious  purpose.  He  did  not 
see  it  at  the  time,  perhaps  he  never  fully  acquiesced  in  the  verdict 
of  the  power  that  makes  of  men  what  they  do  not  contemplate, 

»  For  Phillips  Brooks's  estimate  of  Mr.  Gardner,  cf.  "Address  at  the 
250th  Anniversary  of  the  Boston  Latin  School,"  in  Essays  and  Addresses, 
pp.  419-422. 


24  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

that  carried  him  away  and  bore  him  aloft,  but  first  took  him 
into  the  wilderness,  till  it  had  been  shown  him  what  he  must  do. 

The  letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  the  six  months  after  his 
resignation  from  the  Latin  School  have  an  indifferent  tone;  they 
are  couched  in  the  dialect  of  a  college  student,  who  has  not  yet 
recovered  from  the  thraldom  of  college  life;  they  show  how 
deeply  and  completely  he  had  entered  into  its  spirit.  It  had 
been  to  him  a  time  of  emancipation  from  the  law  of  the  house- 
hold, when  he  had  enjoyed  his  independence,  when  the  mere 
pleasure  of  living  had  been  a  sort  of  intoxication.  He  had 
seen  college  life  in  its  varied  phases,  associating  with  all  sorts 
and  conditions  of  men,  watching  what  is  called  the  Bohemian 
temperament,  while  scorning  its  lower  manifestations  and  its 
false  conception  of  life.  His  identification  with  the  standards 
and  fashion  of  the  college  world  was  the  more  complete  because 
of  his  quick  sensibility  to  external  influences.  His  reserve  would 
have  prevented  him  from  showing  the  more  serious  purpose 
within,  even  had  that  purpose  begun  yet  to  stir  his  spiritual 
nature.  He  was  struggling  against  the  temptations  of  youth, 
fighting  his  battle  with  the  passions  of  his  nature,  and  the  strength 
of  the  conflict  was  greater  in  proportion  to  his  greater  capacities 
for  good  and  evil.  But  even  this  conflict  he  disguised,  wearing 
his  mask  so  well  that  to  some  who  knew  him  his  life  at  moments 
seemed  like  a  rudderless  ship,  whose  sails  hung  idly,  flapping 
with  the  breeze,  as  though  it  were  uncertain  what  his  decision 
would  be.  No  strong  and  avowed  religious  consecration  kept 
him  from  falling,  but  rather  the  habit  of  Christian  nurture,  the 
unconscious  virtue,  the  respect  for  moral  traditions.  His  fall 
came,  or  what  corresponds  to  it,  when  he  was  put  to  the  test  of 
actual  life  and  succumbed  in  the  struggle  with  a  class  of  turbulent 
boys.  Although  he  had  chosen  the  calling  of  a  teacher  in  sin- 
cerity and  with  a  high  ideal  of  its  possibilities,  yet  he  still  lacked 
the  highest  fitness  and  the  inward  consecration,  for  he  was  post- 
poning the  deeper  spiritual  issues  of  life. 

One  who  read  himself  as  he  did,  and  was  so  alive  to  all  that 
was  passing  within,  could  not  have  been  unaware  of  a  great  issue 
postponed.  But  we  encounter  here  a  reserve  so  deep  that  it  is 
impossible  to  do  more  than  surmise.  This  much  seems  to  be 
clear,  that  he  had  not  been  reached  by  the  religious  teaching  at 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  2/f 

St.  Paul's  Church,  and  to  a  certain  extent  was  in  revolt  against 
it.  While  in  college  he  had  listened  with  a  critical  mind.  He 
is  still  remembered  as  he  sat  in  the  family  pew,  at  the  end  of  the 
pew,  where,  crouched  down  with  his  head  between  his  shoulders, 
one  could  not  tell  whether  or  not  he  were  paying  attention  to 
the  preacher.  But  it  is  evident  that  he  heard,  and  from  some  of 
the  teaching  dissented.  The  Christian  life,  as  presented  by  the 
Evangelical  school,  of  which  Dr.  Vinton  was  a  representative, 
called  for  a  renunciation  of  much  which  he  knew  or  believed  to 
be  good.  The  denunciation  of  the  intellect  as  a  dangerous 
guide,  and  of  wealth  as  a  thing  to  be  avoided,  the  condemnation 
of  the  natural  joy  in  life  and  its  innocent  amusements,  the  schism 
between  religion  and  life, — against  all  this  he  inwardly  protested. 
If  this  was  what  devotion  to  the  law  of  God  demanded,  he  was 
not  ready  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  his  will. 

In  this  interval  of  waiting,  Dr.  Vinton,  meeting  his  father, 
sent  word  to  Phillips  to  come  and  see  him.  His  father  replied 
that  Phillips  would  not  then  see  any  one,  but  that  after  he 
got  over  the  feeling  of  mortification  in  consequence  of  his  failure 
.  he  would  come.  His  first  step  toward  recovery  was  to  lay  his 
case  before  the  president  of  Harvard  College,  to  whom  he  had 
listened  occasionally  in  the  college  chapel  on  Sunday  evenings. 
Dr.  Walker  was  a  confessor  to  souls  by  an  inward  divine  appoint- 
v/ment.  He  encouraged  him  to  study  for  the  ministry.  "He 
encouraged  me,"  said  Brooks,  alluding  to  the  incident  in  later 
life,  "but  he  was  not  enthusiastic;  he  was  not  an  enthusiastic 
man."  President  Eliot,  at  that  time  a  tutor  in  the  college, 
recalls  how  he  met  Brooks  at  the  door  coming  from  the  inter- 
view and  was  struck  by  his  appearance. 

The  six  months  after  leaving  the  Latin  School  were  a  gloomy 
period,  when  the  depression  of  his  spirit  reached  its  lowest 
degree.  He  read  and  studied,  mainly  classical  writers,  and 
kept  up  his  reading  of  German,  perhaps  from  habit,  or  the  neces- 
sity of  doing  something,  or  as  though  there  were  still  some  possible 
prospect  in  the  future  of  his  becoming  a  teacher.  He  wandered 
through  the  streets  of  Boston,  meeting  now  and  then  a  class- 
mate or  college  friend.  He  made  a  list  of  the  names  of  his 
class,  jotting  down  against  each  name  what  occupation  he 
had  found,  for  what  profession  he  was  planning.     The  mortifi- 


26  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

cation  of  failure  rested  like  an  incubus  on  his  proud  and  sensitive 
spirit.  College  experience  had  not  yet  relapsed  into  its  true 
perspective.  He  was  still  hanging  about  the  place  of  the  gay 
assemblage  when  the  guests  were  gone  and  the  lights  were  out. 
We  can  hardly  exaggerate  the  trial  he  was  passing  through.  He 
had  made  his  first  essay  at  real  life  and  had  been  defeated.  He 
had  been  shut  out  from  his  Eden  by  a  stern  decree;  a  flaming 
sword  confronted  him  which  turned  every  way  to  keep  him  from 
his  chosen  vocation.  In  his  desperation  he  had  resolved  to  give 
up  ambition  for  himself,  to  be  content  with  the  lowest  and 
humblest  place  at  the  feast.  He  was  much  impressed  with  a 
book  which  had  then  just  appeared,  Souvestre's  "Attic  Philo- 
sopher" (Un  Philosophe  sous  les  Toils,  Journal  oVun  Homme 
Heureux),  the  story  of  "a  man  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  fever, 
the  restlessness  and  ambition  which  racks  society  in  our  time, 
continues  to  fill  his  humble  part  in  the  world  without  a  murmur, 
and  who  preserves,  so  to  speak,  the  taste  for  poverty.  With 
no  other  fortune  than  a  small  clerkship,  which  enables  him  to 
live  within  the  narrow  limits  separating  competence  from  want, 
our  philosopher  looks  from  the  heights  of  his  attic  upon 
society  as  upon  a  sea,  of  which  he  neither  covets  the  riches  nor 
fears  the  wrecks.  Too  insignificant  to  excite  the  envy  of 
any  one,  he  sleeps  peacefully,  wrapped  in  his  obscurity." 
So  impressed  was  he  with  the  lesson  of  the  book  that  he 
wrote  a  short  story,  working  up  the  experience  of  the  sisters 
Frances  and  Madeleine,  in  his  own  way,  with  a  conversation 
upon  it,  where  different  speakers  express  their  judgments  upon 
life. 

The  need  of  expression  was  imperative,  and  yet  there  was  no 
one  to  whom  he  could  unburden  himself;  he  hardly  knew  what 
the  burden  was.  In  walking  the  streets  of  Boston  he  was  alone 
as  if  in  the  desert,  for  the  waste  of  his  experience  was  a  veritable 
Horeb,  and  like  the  prophet,  he  was  receiving  a  revelation 
within.  He  now  began  to  commit  his  thoughts  to  writing,  and 
in  so  doing  gained  a  clearer  vision  and  a  new  courage.  There 
is  reserve  here,  even  to  himself;  but  as  we  read  we  become  aware 
that  we  are  listening  to  the  cry  from  the  depths,  suspiria  de 
profundus,  the  breathings  of  an  awakening  soul,  the  confessions 
of  an  inquiring  spirit. 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  27 

" '  How  pure  in  heart,  how  true  in  head, 
With  what  divine  affections  bold, 
Must  be  the  man  whose  soul  would  hold 
An  hour's  communion  with  the  dead  ! ' 

"These,  I  think,  are  exactly  the  feelings  with  which  we  should 
approach  the  study  of  a  life  which  has  been  lived  here  on  earth. 
I  think  that  in  our  democratic  grouping  of  mankind  we  recognize 
too  little  the  individualities  of  individual  human  natures.  We 
read  too  little  the  infinite  variety  of  the  human  mind.  I  think 
the  man  never  yet  lived  who  could  fully,  sympathetically,  and 
understandingly  appreciate  any  other  man.  Each  mind  and  soul 
in  the  fulness  of  its  powers  and  its  weaknesses,  its  capacities  and 
its  deficiencies,  is  more  or  less  a  riddle  unread  and  unreadable  by 
every  other  mind  and  soul.     .     .     ." 

"  Mind,  intellect,  we  can  measure  only  by  original  thought 
Knowledge  may  show  a  man's  application,  wealth  may  declare 
his  industry,  power  may  prove  his  tact  (his  smartness,  we  call  it 
here) ;  this  alone  can  establish  the  depth  and  worth  and  power  of 
his  mind.  If  Plato  or  Aristotle  were  to  come  on  earth  to-day 
just  as  they  left  it  some  twenty  centuries  ago,  you  or  I  could  take 
them  to  school;  we  could  teach  them  new  facts  in  science,  new 
truths  in  religion,  new  events  in  history,  new  lessons  in  worldly 
wisdom,  but  would  we  therefore  boast  of  greater  intellect,  truly 
speaking,  greater  knowledge,  than  Plato  or  Aristotle  ?  Our  pupils 
would  take  our  teachings  even  from  our  lips,  but  how  soon  we 
should  find  that  they  had  passed  into  them  with  a  power  that  they 
never  had  in  us ;  that  what  we  had  learned  and  taught  as  new 
they  were  using  as  gods,  and  our  facts  and  truths,  events  and 
lessons,  growing  pliant  in  those  old  hands,  would  melt  and  mould 
in  purer  and  stronger  shapes  of  symmetry  and  truth." 

"  It  seems  sometimes  as  if  the  world  had  to  come  back  every 
little  while  and  prove  its  first  principles.  Those  primary  truths 
which  are  constantly  in  use  grow,  as  if  by  friction,  smooth  and 
tame  and  dull.  Men  build  their  heavy  structures  of  religion, 
policy,  and  law  on  what  they  honestly  and  earnestly  believe  a  firm 
foundation,  and  then  taking  their  foundation  for  granted  they  for- 
get it  for  a  while  and  go  on  with  their  superstructure.  But  the 
world's  little  or  large  waves  are  beating,  heard  or  unheard,  down 
below,  till  some  son  or  son's  son  dreams  that  the  basis  which  his 
father  laid  is  safe  and  sound  after  all,  and  he  goes  down  and  tries 
it  again  and  once  more  begins  the  bulky  work.  The  world  comes 
forever  back  to  Pilate's  question,  What  is  truth?  What  do  I 
believe  and  why  do  I  believe  it?  It  has  proved  that  our  fathers 
were  mistaken  about  the  planets;  let  us  see  whether  they  knew 


28  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

about  the  soul.  These  investigations  are  occasional,  and  (it  is 
both  a  good  and  a  bad  sign)  they  seem  to  grow  more  frequent. 
Is  not  one  going  on  now?  There  was  one  in  Luther's  time, 
another  in  the  later  mythologists',  and  still  another  in  the 
prophets';  all  were  more  partial  and  more  reverent  than  this 
last." 

"  How  often  we  are  made  to  feel  that  there  is  very  much  in  us 
which  our  nearest  friends  do  not  and  cannot  know.  I  do  not 
think  there  is  a  man  living,  however  base  or  weak  or  dull  or  com- 
monplace, who  does  not  in  some  waking  moment  of  his  dim  life 
feel,  perhaps  with  no  more  fulness  than  we  may  suppose  an  infant 
to  enter  into  man's  life,  that  he  has  more  in  him  than  he  dares 
or  cares  or  is  able  to  show  out,  more  of  feeling,  good  or  bad,  more 
of  power,  more  of  manhood.  How  little  we  know  of  ourselves! 
How  we  are  forever  making  discoveries  in  our  own  characters, 
tearing  off  disguises,  tearing  down  old  idols,  tearing  to  pieces  old 
rules  and  canons  which  were  once  like  Heaven's  truth  to  our  blind 
hearts.  Then  we  are  always  or  often  (not  often  enough)  finding 
in  ourselves  new  capacity  and  appreciation  for  goodness  and 
beauty  and  truth,  new  rooms  for  knowledge  and  new  desires  to 
fill  them.  We  do  not  know  ourselves.  And  when  I  profess 
my  ignorance  of  what  I  am,  shall  another  pretend  to  teach  me? 
Knowing  far  more  than  any  one  else  knows  of  me,  and  knowing 
that  I  know  it,  I  think  we  may  learn  from  it  a  lesson  of  self- 
dependence  or  rather  of  independence  of  others;  for  here  may 
we  not  see  one  of  the  secrets  of  man's  need  and  craving  and 
demand  for  a  God,  for  something  to  trust  to  ?  I  and  you  know 
neither  ourselves  nor  each  other;  every  day  we  feel  it  more 
and  more.  But  not  to  be  all  unknown  we  may  find  one  who 
knows  us  both;  and  while  in  self-distrust  and  mutual  ignorance 
we  are  separated  from  each  other,  let  us  rest  with  Him  and  make 
through  Him  a  surer  union  for  ourselves.  We  may  love  God  not 
only  because  He  made  us  and  guards  us  and  supports  us,  but  also 
because  He  knows  us,  and  thus  our  love  to  Him  will  be  essentially 
different  in  kind  from  that  which  any  human  creature  has  ever 
excited,  or  can  ever  excite,  in  any  other.  The  fulness  of  know- 
ledge, where  no  richer  or  deeper  can  be  hoped,  will  be  to  know 
then,  just  as  we  may  feel  or  find  comfort  in  the  feeling  that  we 
are  known  now." 

"  How  much  power  is  lost  or  impaired  in  this  world  by  being  in 
the  wrong  hands.  I  suppose  every  man  has  often  felt  that  he  has 
capacities  in  him  which  another  man  would  turn  (perhaps  only 
from  their  combination  with  other  qualities)  to  honor,  or  profit,  or 
power  of  some  kind,  yet  feeling  all  the  while  that  in  his  own 
hand  these  selfsame  capabilities  are   lying   and  probably  will 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  29 

always  lie  unused.  If  this  be  so  may  we  not  suppose  that  we  all 
possess,  though  they  be  not  useful  in  us,  all  the  germs  or  seeds,  if 
not  of  all  capacities,  yet  of  many  more  than  we  are  in  the  habit  of 
using  every  day,  and  so  hope  that  in  a  fuller  and  completer  estate 
of  being,  when  that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away,  this  par- 
tialness  of  our  own  development  and  use  may  become  obsolete, 
and  we  may  awake  and  know  ourselves,  our  powers,  our  abilities, 
our  uses,  and  rise  to  new  lives,  new  aims,  new  ends  of  being?  " 

"  Most  men  read  other  men's  lives  as  they  would  spell  out  a 
language  of  which  they  are  ignorant,  but  which  somewhat  resem- 
bles their  own.  With  the  help  of  a  word  here  and  there,  which 
looks  a  little  like  one  with  which  they  are  familiar,  they  go 
bungling,  stumbling,  doubting  through,  reading  a  little, guessing  at 
more,  and  letting  the  rest  go  altogether.  Let  such  pray  for  a 
moral  gift  of  tongues,  a  mental  Pentecost  which  shall  teach  them 
the  strange  language  in  which  their  neighbors'  lives  are  written. 
No  one  can  ever  know  how  far  he  is  a  fair  specimen  of  his  race, 
how  well  he  embodies  its  average  endowments  and  may  serve  as  a 
sample  to  judge  humanity.  We  may  hope  that  we  are  none  of  us 
so, — an  average  man;  a  sample  human  must  be  a  miserable 
creature." 

"  With  how  much  clearness  and  precision  we  can  often  trace  the 
steps  by  which  a  man  has  mounted  to  some  leading  principle,  the 
mental  ladder  by  which  he  has  climbed  to  some  great  idea.  The 
materials  lie  in  everybody's  hands ;  the  only  difficulty  is  in  the  in- 
genuity necessary  for  building  them  into  shape,  and  the  strength 
of  head  which  is  required  to  mount  without  dizziness  from  stage 
to  stage.  Every  man  must  build  his  own  ladder.  We  cannot 
use  each  other's.  And  it  depends  upon  a  man's  own  clearness 
and  soundness  of  head  whether,  having  reached  the  summit,  he 
can  cast  off  the  steps  by  which  he  mounted,  or  needs  them  still  to 
rest  his  eye  on  them  for  confidence  and  support." 

"  Some  leading,  settled,  authoritative  truth  is  a  treasure  to  a 
man.  The  mind  probably  does  not  know  what  it  needs  while  it 
is  without  it,  but  it  soon  feels  that  it  is  stronger  and  firmer  the 
moment  that  it  is  gained.  A  thought  once  fully  examined  and 
weighed  and  approved,  whose  soundness  is  acknowledged,  whose 
value  is  unquestioned,  whose  place  is  fully  established,  becomes 
from  that  moment  a  standpoint  for  the  soul ;  other  thoughts  come 
to  its  confessional  for  approval  or  advice;  like  a  magnet  it  draws 
the  scattered  fragments  of  other  thoughts  around  it,  binding  them 
to  itself  and  to  each  other,  giving  them  a  part  of  its  own  life,  its 
own  power,  its  own  truth.  Under  such  a  thought  the  soul's  gov- 
ernment is  firm,  energetic,  full  of  life,  for  it  has  a  prerogative 


3o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

and  a  pre-established  authority  like  a  king's;  and  then  if  that 
kingly  thought  dies,  with  no  other  full  grown  and  ready  to  succeed, 
an  interregnum  must  ensue,  and  be,  as  always,  vacillating,  weak, 
and  witless." 

"  A  stranger's  thought  is  to  no  one  like  his  own.  He  may  adopt, 
it  and  cherish  it  and  call  it  his,  but  his  blood  is  not  in  its  veins 
nor  the  stamp  of  his  likeness  on  its  features.  Not  that  we  may 
not  have  the  same  thought  for  the  beacon  or  the  basis  of  our  lives, 
but  it  must  be  natural  and  home-bred  for  each.  You  must  not 
borrow  it  from  me,  nor  I  from  you.  Because  it  serves  your  life 
it  is  no  sign  either  that  it  will  or  will  not  serve  mine.  That  we 
must  try  for  ourselves;  and  if  we  find  it  will  not  serve,  then 
away  with  it,  not  as  useless,  but  as  useless  for  us.  I  may  grant 
the  beauty  in  which  your  soul  as  well  as  your  body  is  dressed,  but 
that  soul  garment  of  yours  would  fit  and  would  become  me  not  a 
whit  more  than  your  body's  clothing.  Another  lesson  of  in- 
dependent thought.  I  must  have  and  must  demand  not  only 
beauty  and  sublimity  and  power,  but  fitness  and  adaptability 
as  well." 

"A  spark  of  original  thought,  a  gleam  of  an  idea  which  is  his 
own,  which  he  does  not  know  to  have  visited  another  being, 
strengthens  a  man's  feeling  of  individuality,  but  weakens  his  sense 
of  race.  It  is  an  inspiring,  ennobling,  elevating,  but  not  a  social 
thing.  But  what  a  kindly  power,  what  a  warm  human  family 
feeling,  clusters  around  a  thought  which  we  find  common  to  our 
mind  and  to  some  old  mind  which  was  thinking  away  back  in  the 
twilight  of  time.  The  common  idea  binds  us  to  that  dead 
man  with  a  friendship  of  the  soul  as  warm  and  full  and  free  as  any 
which  holds  us  to  our  living  companions.  So  when  we  recognize 
a  common  impulse,  or  rule  of  life,  or  instinct  of  love  and  hate, 
we  must  feel  humanity  in  its  spirit  bearing  witness  with  our 
spirits  that  it  is  the  offspring  of  a  common  divinity.  When  I 
find  the  great  and  poor,  and  wise  and  weak,  of  all  ages,  just  such 
in  some  point  as  I  am  to-day,  I  cannot  be  an  atheist.  Hence  the 
value  of  books.  What  a  power  is  in  them!  What  cosmopolites 
they  are  and  make  of  us!  Hence  the  beauty  and  the  use  of  a 
perfect  biography,  the  perfection  of  a  perfect  book.  It  consoles 
our  weaknesses,  for  it  casts  them  on  humanity;  it  destroys  our 
boasts  and  vanities,  for  it  shares  them  with  mankind.  It  makes 
us  happier,  purer,  truer  men  by  making  us  more  human.  To 
make  a  perfect  biography  a  man's  own  self-knowledge  ought  to  be 
united  to  a  stranger's  calm,  impartial,  disinterested  judgment,  a 
thing  not  likely  to  be  seen  on  earth." 

"  Is  it  not  almost  time  for  some  men  to  learn  that  their  incessant 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  31 

railing  at  earthly  riches  and  power  and  learning  is  doing  far 
more  harm  than  good,  that  men  are  really  convinced  on  reason- 
able grounds  that  these  things  are  good,  worthy  objects  of 
ambition  and  endeavor,  and  that  if  they  have  higher  and  worthier 
advantages  to  offer,  their  way  to  recommend  them  must  not 
be  to  decry  and  depreciate  what  little  good  man  already  pos- 
sesses? Such  men  may  thank  merely  the  weakness  of  their  cause 
and  of  themselves  that  their  efforts  are  not  productive  of  more 
serious  effects.  Once  convince  men  that  wealth,  power,  and 
learning  are  mean  and  despicable  and  wrong,  and  you  have 
crowned  inefficiency  and  ignorance,  brutality  and  stupidity,  as 
the  monarchs  of  our  race  forever." 


"  The  attempts  to  control  and  change  belief  by  arbitrary 
commands,  which  appear  so  absurd  and  impossible  as  they  were 
attempted  at  the  time  when  the  Reformation  was  going  on,  are 
perhaps  not  so  strange  after  all,  or  rather  the  strangeness  and 
false  judgment  lay  not  so  much  in  the  thing  undertaken  as  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  attempt  was  made.  It  has  been  done  for 
ages,  by  Popes  and  Saints,  by  direct,  open,  undisguised,  undoubt- 
ing  dictation.  It  is  done  now,  and  has  been  done  ever  since,  by 
ministers  and  writers,  by  the  quieter,  but  scarcely  less  arbitrary 
demands  of  personal  influence,  social  custom,  apparent  logic,  and 
blind  individual  reverence.  Now  the  error  of  those  who  at- 
tempted this  same  thing  and  failed  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as 
King  Henry  VIII.  in  England  and  others  elsewhere,  would  seem 
to  be  that,  living  in  a  changing  age,  their  age  was  a  little  in  ad- 
vance of  them,  they  were  passing  from  the  old  to  the  new  way 
of  receiving  belief.  They  still  clung  to  the  old  way  of  impress- 
ing it,  and  hence  arose  the  trouble." 

"  How  strangely  at  times  we  wake  up  to  a  new  meaning  or  a  new 
beauty  in  an  old,  dry  commonplace  that  has  been  growing  rusty 
on  the  lips  of  men  for  years, — one  of  those  didactic  heirlooms 
that  father  has  handed  down  to  son  through  long  generations  of 
stupidity.  We  have  received  it  as  stupidly  as  any  before  us, 
either  stupidly  thinking  that  we  felt  its  force,  or  as  stolidly 
scorning  it  as  trite  and  lifeless.  But  sometimes  a  thought  will 
come  like  an  angel  to  the  pool;  our  souls  are  troubled,  and  the 
old  dead  axiom  finds  its  place  as  a  living  working  thing ;  light 
breaks  from  its  eye ;  its  heart  begins  a  human  beating,  its  tongue 
is  loosed,  and  the  dumb  speaks  oracles.  It  is  only  another  in- 
stance that  man  may  hold  power  in  his  hands  and  not  know  it, 
another  proof  of  life  and  energy  that  is  passing  for  death  all 
around  us,  because  we  are  so  far  from  perfect  that  we  cannot 
make  use  even  of  all  our  imperfections." 


32  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  I  may  learn  from  the  general  indifference  with  which  I  am  apt 
to  regard  the  private  acts  of  other  men  outside  of  the  narrow 
circle  of  a  few  friends,  that  my  deeds  and  words  are  not  matters 
of  such  interest  to  them  as  I  am  sometimes  apt  to  dream,  that 
they  comment  upon  them  for  a  moment  and  then  forget  what  is 
of  infinite  importance  to  me  forever.  And  so  I  may  begin  to 
ponder  less  upon  how  my  conduct  strikes  them  and  more  on  how 
my  duty  urges  me.  And  heeding  them  less  in  the  present  I  may 
also  heed  my  own  past  less.  "  Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead." 
Good  or  bad,  it  is  gone  now,  and  I  have  only  to  read  its  lessons 
as  far  as  I  may  learn  to  profit  and  grow  by  them ;  as  we  solemnly 
and  sadly  close  the  eyes  and  draw  the  veil  over  the  face  of  some 
dear  dead  friend,  and  go  out  into  the  world,  to  live  by  his  advice 
and  his  memory  a  better  and  purer  life." 

"  The  choice  of  a  profession  is  to  a  great  extent  the  choice  of  a 
life,  for  nothing  can  be  more  different  than  the  habits,  associa- 
tions, relations  of  life  into  which  the  different  professions  cast  us. 
By  one  single  decisive  act  all  these  are  to  be  settled  for  all  the 
future.  Up  to  the  time  of  choice  all  have  been  general,  common 
to  us  with  all  young  learning  men,  but  now  the  broad,  clear,  open 
road  breaks  and  separates;  its  paths  diverge  in  every  direction 
and  bear  all  manner  of  appearances  at  their  starting.  Which 
shall  we  take?  And  first  one  word  as  to  the  importance  and  the 
difficulty  of  the  choice.  Whatever  be  our  selection  we  shall  prob- 
ably never  know  it  if  we  are  wrong.  Our  dissatisfaction  in  the 
pursuit  which  we  have  chosen  will  not  prove  that  another  would 
have  suited  better.  And  as  to  trying  them  all  and  so  satisfying 
ourselves  of  the  wisdom  of  our  choice,  it  is  impossible  simply  be- 
cause we  have  oniy  one  short  life  and  not  three  or  four  to  live. 
And  again  men  who  have  made  the  choice  years  ago  are  little 
more  qualified  to  assist  us  than  we  are  to  help  ourselves.  Each 
has  tried  only  his  own  pursuit,  and  is  unqualified,  except  on  the 
general  grounds  which  we  all  possess,  to  speak  of  the  pursuits  of 
others.  If  he  has  wasted  his  life  in  trying  to  test  them  all,  he  is 
probably  all  the  less  qualified  to  speak  of  either.  Again  the  con- 
viction of  the  wisdom  of  my  neighbor's  choice  will  not  assist  me 
in  making  mine.  I  may  be  sure  that  he  is  wise  and  right  in 
going  to  the  bar,  and  yet  know  all  the  while  perfectly  well  that 
the  most  foolish  thing  I  could  do  would  be  to  stupidly  follow  him 
there,  walking  in  his  steps  because  they  are  his  steps,  not  because 
they  mark  the  pathway  for  which  I  was  made.  It  is  no  place  for 
fashion.  A  wise  man  may  follow  his  neighbors  in  the  cut  of  his 
coat,  or  the  style  of  his  manners ;  no  one  but  the  rankest  fool  will 
give  up  his  life  to  be  moulded  and  modelled  by  their  hands.  We 
must  cast  off  then,  once  for  all,  all  regard  to  the  preferences  or 
prejudices  of  our  friends  if  our  selection  is  to  be  at  all  a  wise 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  33 

one.  If  I  am  to  choose  a  life  for  myself,  which  I  am  to  live 
and  for  which  I  am  to  answer,  let  the  choice  be  really  mine,  let 
me  say  to  my  advisers:  I  receive  your  advice,  but  no  dictation. 
Without  presumption  or  vanity,  humbly,  earnestly,  and  firmly,  I 
claim  my  own  human  and  divine  right  to  my  own  life.  Like- 
wise we  must  regard  not  at  all  those  professional  prejudices 
which,  magnifying  one  pursuit,  would  make  it  the  test  of  capa- 
bility for  success  in  all.  I  have  heard  an  excellent  schoolmaster 
say  (or  heard  of  his  saying)  that  he  never  knew  a  man  who  failed 
in  teaching  to  succeed  in  anything  else.  I  humbly  believe  it  was 
the  schoolmaster  and  not  the  man  who  spoke.  I  have  failed 
myself  most  signally  in  teaching  school,  but  I  am  not  yet  quite 
ready  to  acknowledge  myself  wholly  unequal  to  all  this  wide 
world's  work." 

"The  professions  as  the  term  is  generally  used  are  three: 
Law,  Medicine,  and  Theology.  The  protection  of  a  man's  rights, 
of  his  body,  and  of  his  soul,  the  three  great  barriers  which, 
while  he  is  hedging  and  ditching  and  tilling  in  his  busy ,  bustling 
fields,  are  keeping  out  the  destroying  waters  that  would  waste  him 
and  all  his  together.  Law,  the  pledge  of  man's  social  being,  the 
common  friend  that  takes  man's  hand  and  placing  it  in  his  neigh- 
bor's bids  him  trust  in  social  honor,  integrity,  and  justice,  embody- 
ing at  once  the  sternest  workings  of  human  vengeance  and  the 
purest  and  most  merciful  spirit  of  human  love,  drawing  its 
charter  from  the  holiest  source,  God's  eternal  law,  and  making 
that  charter  the  blessed  agent  for  smoothing  the  world's  rough 
roads  alike  for  the  clumsy  feet  of  human  governments  and  the 
humblest  steps  of  common  men  who  cannot  but  jostle  each  other 
in  the  rugged  way, — Law,  so  often  made  powerless  by  debased 
humanity,  is  almighty  in  the  inherent  diversity  of  its  nature. 
And  Medicine,  man's  humbler  but  his  truer  friend,  more  im- 
mediately visible  in  the  good  it  gives,  standing  by  the  sick-bed 
where  the  poor  man  lies  tossing  with  his  fever,  wiping  his  clammy 
brow,  moistening  his  parched  lips,  soothing  and  calming  the 
racking  of  his  exhausted  frame,  man's  first  visitor  and  his  last,  the 
most  direct,  the  most  efficient,  the  most  apparent,  of  his  bene- 
factors all  through  his  life.  And  Divinity,  the  most  revered  of 
professions  or  the  most  despised,  which  is  either  everything  to 
man,  or  worse,  far  worse  than  nothing,  either  the  most  solemn 
and  the  most  Godlike  of  truths  or  the  most  fearful  and  devilish 
of  lies,  whose  very  perversions  and  disgraces  and  abuses  show 
its  native  worth,  the  nearest,  dearest,  most  familiar  of  messages 
from  God  to  man,  which  men  reverence  while  they  sneer  at,  and 
honor  and  worship  in  its  nature  when  they  most  shudder  and 
shrink  from  the  dresses,  all  soiled  and  stained  and  of  the  earth, 
with  which  it  sometimes   claims   that  it  is   clothed, — surely, 


34  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

looking  at  the  three  thus  in  their  purest  and  whitest  abstraction, 
this  last  is  not  unworthy." 

"  Shelley  at  the  age  of  seventeen  writing  Queen  Mab  seems  to 
me,  whatever  we  may  think  of  the  religion,  the  politics,  "and  the 
ethics  of  that  poem,  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  sights  on 
which  we  can  ponder.  It  is  not  merely  a  boy  of  genius,  like  Chat- 
terton  or  Byron  or  Keats.  It  is  a  boy  man  with  all  a  boy's  fire 
and  young  strength  and  young  zeal  and  all  a  man's  earnestness  of 
purpose  and  belief.  I  must  say  the  blasphemy,  for  we  must  use 
the  word,  of  that  strange  poem  has  done  more  to  make  me  a  Chris- 
tian than  many  a  wise  homily.  How  he  stands  with  his  young 
face  intent  to  seize  all  the  great  converse  of  God  and  Nature  which 
is  ever  speaking  between  earth  and  heaven  And  O,  how  sad  to 
see  him  catching  only  Nature's  half  of  the  dialogue  and  thinking 
earnestly,  indignantly,  that  he  has  heard  the  whole,  and  then  with 
all  the  martyr  spirit  of  a  Huss,  madly  crying  to  religion  and  gov- 
ernment, and  commerce  and  marriage  and  God,  that  they  are 
utter  lies.  I  do  not  envy  the  man  who  can  read  the  poem  and, 
through  all  his  horror  at  the  sacrilege,  and  disgust  and  disap- 
proval of  the  false  morality,  false  logic,  false  history,  and  false 
hopes  that  fill  it,  not  feel  a  thrill  of  honor  and  pity  and  love  for  the 
poor,  pure  world-wretched  man  who  wrote  it.  How  many  men 
there  are  who  have  no  truer  light  than  he,  but  who  can  be  content 
in  darkness,  which  he  could  not,  who  want  only  his  depth  of  feel- 
ing and  height  of  genius  to  be  what  he  was." 

"  Of  the  Revolt  of  Islam  it  seems  to  me  to  be  the  purest  concep- 
tion and  embodiment  of  his  creed  as  conceived  and  embodied  by 
the  purest  soul  that  ever  believed  in  the  power  of  mere  human 
love  and  joy  and  virtue  to  regenerate  the  world.  And  the  great 
answer  to  his  theory  seems  to  be  just  where  he  was  too  pure  to 
find  it,  in  his  own  purity.  Laon  and  Laone  hardly  lived  in  the 
earth,  or  even  the  stuff  of  which  Laon  and  Laone  might  be  made, 
outside  of  the  mind  of  Shelley.  The  creed  then  which  they  could 
make,  and  which  should  then  guard,  guide,  and  comfort  them, 
was  a  creed  for  them,  not  for  mankind.  .  .  .  Shelley's  error 
throughout  seems  to  me  too  low  an  estimate  of  man's  actual  and 
too  high  a  faith  in  man's  (unaided)  possible. 

"  The  last  sentence  of  the  Prometheus  Unbound  should  surely 
forever  entitle  the  aspirations  and  longings  of  that  poem  for  a 
purer  world  to  respect  and  reverence.  ...  If  purity  of  heart 
and  earnestness  of  purpose  and  perfect  poetry  of  life  and  hopes  and 
universal  being  be  things  to  honor  and  revere,  then  we  must  give 
to  Shelley  full  honor  and  esteem.  .  .  .  Who  would  not  give 
months  of  our  common,  stale,  dead  days  for  one  of  his  fullest, 
happiest,  richest,  silver,  spirit-crowded  days  " 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  35 

"  The  laws,  especially  those  of  early  nations,  consist  much  less  of 
commands  than  of  prohibitions.  Man  is  more  ready  to  do  the  good 
which  is  in  him  than  to  leave  undone  the  evil.  I  think  it  is  more 
to  his  credit  than  if  the  reverse  were  the  case ;  this  shows  a  want 
of  self-restraint;  that  would  argue  positive  malignity,  and  predi- 
lection for  the  wrong." 

"  The  great  analogies  of  nature  are  fossilized  in  the  language  of 
mankind.  The  clear  stars  give  a  name  to  the  clearness  of  an  eye ; 
the  ruddy  roses  to  the  blushing  of  a  cheek ;  and  even  in  more  lofty 
moral  things,  the  purity  of  the  evening  sky,  the  fresh  nakedness 
of  morning,  the  calm  beauty  of  summer,  and  the  stern  majesty 
of  winter  give  us  terms  and  titles  for  the  pureness,  the  energy, 
the  calm  devotion,  or  majestic  duty  of  men's  lives.  The  fullest, 
richest,  and  yet  the  truest  of  figurative  language  is  what  the 
tongue,  untaught  but  capable  of  eloquence,  learns  among  the 
woods  and  brooks  and  birds." 

"  Humanity  has  no  sterner  judge  than  human  nature;  mankind 
no  stricter  master  than  man.  The  great  difficulty  of  the  contem- 
porary historian  is  to  judge  rightly  where  the  tidemark  of  time 
will  run,  how  high  the  waves  will  rise,  what  must  be  covered  and 
what  points  will  stand  out  to  tell  future  men  where  the  firm 
ground  of  his  age  once  stood.  All  that  is  to  be  remembered  must 
group  round  these  points ;  all  that  can  make  its  mark  on  them 
will  tell.  The  greatness  of  the  memory  of  things  often  differs 
much  from  the  greatness  of  their  reality  in  kind.  The  great  gla- 
ciers that  went  crushing  and  crashing  and  crumbling  over  our 
continent  uncounted  ages  ago  are  known  and  remembered  to-day 
by  a  few  faint  scratches  on  a  few  old  rocks.  No  historian  will  be 
perfect  till  he  shall  have  fully  learnt  the  perspective  of  history. 
Then  he  will  be  an  artist  with  his  art  complete." 

"  We  speak  with  enthusiasm  of  originality,  but  too  seldom  dis- 
tinguish between  its  different  kinds,  between  originality  as  a  habit 
and  originality  as  a  life.  One  sparkles  out  here  and  there  in  a 
strangeness  of  thought  or  oddity  of  action,  is  often  entertaining, 
sometimes  awakening  and  so  improving,  but  not  generally  very 
estimable.  The  other  is  a  genuineness  and  self-reliance  of  the 
whole  man.  There  may  be  no  thought  or  act  which  has  not  been 
thought  or  done  over  and  over  again  by  men  before.  The  pe- 
culiarity consists  in  its  being  home-bred  and  original  over  again, 
after  all  its  triteness,  with  this  new  man ;  and  in  its  new  strength 
he  is  strong." 

"  Let  us  cultivate  and  reverently  cherish  the  honest  indignations 
of  our  nature,  for  they  are  the  life  and  fire  that  is  in  us.     God  has 


36  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

given  them,  and  the  man  is  most  happy  who  has  them  the  warm- 
est, the  truest,  the  least  wrenched  by  prejudice,  the  least  dulled 
by  sense  and  sin." 

"The  mind  that  never  consciously  repeats  itself,  that  finds  fresh 
thoughts  and  feelings  always  prompt  when  fresh  occasions  rise, 
never  having  to  go  back  and  take  old  dresses  and  recut,  refit,  and 
make  them  over  to  suit  new  needs,  is  blessed  of  God.  It  is  hard 
to  have  to  look  to  old  emergencies  to  meet  the  new  exigencies  of 
life,  demanding  of  the  past  not  only  memories  and  teaching  which 
it  owes  us,  but  also  the  present  powers  and  present  resources 
which  the  present  ought  to  furnish." 

"  With  what  care  we  should  cherish  each  waking  thought  that 
bears  a  trace  of  nobleness  or  purity  or  strength,  tend,  foster,  and 
watch  it,  'for  by  so  doing  many  have  entertained  angels  un- 
awares.' It  may  be  our  angel.  We  may  soon  see  its  bright 
wings  unfold  and  the  bright  smile  of  heaven  spread  over  its  face, 
and  it  may  take  our  hands  and  lead  us  over  the  rough,  hard  road, 
giving  us  hope  and  strength  and  purpose,  when  without  it  all 
would  have  been  despondency  and  weakness." 

A  study  of  these  reserved,  almost  impersonal  utterances  of 
Phillips  Brooks  discloses  the  birth  of  a  new  religious  experience. 
In  familiar  religious  parlance,  it  is  the  story  of  a  conversion, 
but  unlike  any  other  recorded  in  the  biographies  of  religious 
men.  He  appears  in  revolt  against  methods  and  principles  in 
which  he  had  been  trained,  but  already  he  has  begun  the  process 
of  their  reinterpretation,  while  some  he  rejects  altogether.  He 
is  responding  to  what  was  distinctive  in  his  age,  but  he  is  in 
no  blind  subjection.  That  he  is  contemplating  the  Christian 
ministry  is  apparent,  also  that  he  is  reconciling  himself  to  it. 
Great  obstacles  still  confront  him.  There  are  traditions  of  talks 
with  his  fellow-students,  to  whom  it  seemed  like  throwing  one's 
self  away  to  enter  the  Church.  This  fear  he  undoubtedly  shared 
himself,  and  it  left  its  influence  upon  him.  It  was  a  fresh  sur- 
prise to  him  throughout  his  life  that  the  ministerial  profession 
instead  of  limiting  the  range  of  human  interests  was  a  perpetual 
enlargement.  He  never  spoke  to  young  men  on  this  subject  in 
later  years  without  telling  them  how  full  and  free,  how  inex- 
pressibly rich,  was  the  clerical  calling.  But  all  this  was  yet  to 
come  to  him  in  the  slow  course  of  years.     That  the  reverse  might 


THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  37 

be  true  was  the  danger  that  haunted  him  in  this  first  crisis  of  his 
religious  experience.  Another  objection,  keenly  felt  by  many> 
was  the  indifference  of  the  Church  to  the  humanitarian  move- 
ment calling  for  the  abolition  of  slavery.  The  inference  was 
easy  that  the  Church  had  ceased  to  keep  pace  with  human 
progress.  The  appeal  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  the  cause  of 
moral  reform  came  with  strength  to  one  in  whose  blood  ran 
the  Puritan  motive.  But  on  the  other  hand  was  a  conviction 
that  traditional  Christianity  had  not  yet  spent  its  force;  that 
inherent  in  it  was  an  unsuspected  power  yet  to  be  revealed. 

One  other  incident  in  this  waiting  period  from  February  to 
October,  in  1856,  remains  to  be  mentioned.  He  called  upon 
Dr.  Vinton,  to  ask  what  steps  should  be  taken  by  one  who  pro- 
posed to  study  for  the  ministry.  According  to  his  own  report 
of  the  conversation  at  a  later  time,  Dr.  Vinton  said  that  it  was 
customary  to  have  received  confirmation  before  becoming  a 
candidate  for  orders,  and  also  remarked  that  conversion  was 
generally  regarded  as  a  prerequisite  for  confirmation.  To  this 
Phillips  Brooks  replied  that  he  did  not  know  what  conversion 
meant.  But  Dr.  Vinton  rose  above  conventionalities.  He  ap- 
proved of  the  plan  to  study  for  the  ministry,  and  recommended 
the  seminary  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  at  Alexandria 
in  Virginia  as  the  place  where  the  preparation  should  be  made. 
Phillips  Brooks  seems  to  have  left  home  suddenly  for  Virignia 
some  weeks  after  the  term  had  opened.  Beyond  his  father  and 
mother,  he  took  no  one  into  his  counsels.  To  a  remonstrance 
for  his  want  of  confidence  in  not  telling  his  friends  of  the  step 
he  contemplated,  he  wrote  in  reply:  "Please  let  all  that  matter 
drop.  I  said  scarcely  anything  to  any  one  about  it  but  Father 
and  Mother.  Consider  me  here  at  the  seminary  without  debating 
how  I  got  here." 

He  closed  the  record  of  his  thoughts  on  the  eve  of  his  depar- 
ture with  these  words: 

"As  we  pass  from  some  experience  to  some  experiment,  from 
a  tried  to  an  untried  scene  of  life,  it  is  as  when  we  turn  to  a  new 
page  in  a  book  we  have  never  read  before,  but  whose  author  we 
know  and  love  and  trust  to  give  us  on  every  page  words  of  counsel 
and  purity  and  strengthening  virtue." 


CHAPTER  III. 

1856-1857. 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  AT  VIRGINIA.  NATURE  AND 
EXTENT  OF  READING.  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE- 
BOOKS. 

"It  is  the  five  years  after  college  which  are  the  most  deci- 
sive in  a  man's  career.  Any  event  which  happens  then  has 
its  full  influence.  The  years  which  come  before  are  too  fluid. 
The  years  which  come  after  are  too  solid."  This  remark  of 
Phillips  Brooks,  when  speaking  of  his  friend  Richardson,  the 
architect,  was  based  on  his  own  experience,  as  a  study  of  his 
years  in  the  Virginia  seminary  will  reveal.  A  unique  interest 
attaches  to  his  work  as  a  theological  student.  He  was  making 
accumulations,  fixing  his  methods,  laying  the  foundations  of  his 
future  greatness. 

In  his  decision  to  enter  a  theological  school,  there  was  included 
a  large  tentative  element.  He  had  determined  to  give  it  a  trial, 
but  with  grave  misgivings  about  the  result.  He  was  chiefly  afraid 
for  himself  that  he  should  deteriorate  and  become  content  with 
some  lower  standard.  On  the  other  hand  he  had  safeguards,  which 
were  qualifications  for  his  work :  a  sense  of  humility,  and  the 
growing  consciousness  of  a  vocation.  The  following  passage 
from  a  sermon,  preached  in  1879,  may  be  taken  as  the  com- 
mentary on  his  state  of  mind  as  he  left  home  to  begin  the  study 
of  his  profession: 

"  With  regard  to  that  time  [the  period  of  professional  prepara- 
tion], I  think  that  all  of  us  who  have  seen  many  men  will  bear 
witness  that  it  is  just  there  that  many  men  grow  narrow,  and 
from  being  broad  in  sympathies,  large,  generous,  humane,  before, 
even  in  all  the  crudity  of  their  boyhood,  the  moment  of  the  choice 
of  their  profession  seems  to  make  them  limited  and  special,  shuts 
them  up  between  narrow  walls,  makes  them  uninteresting  to  all 

38 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  39 

the  world  outside  their  little  work,  and  makes  all  the  world  ou 
side  their  little  work  uninteresting  to  them.  .  .  .  Where  shall 
the  larger  spirit  come  from?  The  spirit  of  an  act  comes  from  its 
motive.  There  must  be  a  larger  motive  then.  And  the  largest 
of  all  motives  is  the  sending  of  God,  the  commission  of  Him  who 
is  the  Father  of  us  all.  .  .  .  The  true  salvation  from  the  sordid- 
ness  and  narrowness  of  professional  life  comes  only  with  a  pro- 
found faith  that  God  sent  us  to  be  the  thing  that  we  are,  to  do 
the  work  that  we  are  doing."  i 

It  must  have  been  an  exciting  and  busy  moment  in  the 
Brooks  family  when  Phillips  left  home  for  the  first  time, — 
the  mother's  first  call  to  this  peculiar  experience.  When  it 
came  a  second  time,  in  the  case  of  her  son  George,  she  spoke  in  a 
letter  to  Phillips  of  the  pain  it  gave  her,  and  how  it  had  re- 
minded her  of  his  departure  from  home.  The  love  which  bound 
the  household  together  was  intensified  by  this  event,  so  common, 
so  familiar,  and  yet  ever  new.  We  speak  of  these  things  because 
no  one  could  attach  more  importance  to  them  than  Phillips 
Brooks.  From  his  childhood  he  recognized  the  mystery  which 
broods  over  meetings  and  partings.  But  he  was  young,  not  yet 
twenty-one;  it  was  like  going  to  a  new  world;  he  was  to  see  on 
the  way  the  places  he  had  long  heard  of  and  had  been  eager  to 
see,  the  larger  cities  of  his  own  country.  He  had  in  him  the 
making  of  a  traveller,  and  this  was  his  first  experience.  His 
face  was  set  towards  the  future,  and  beneath  it  all  was  the  con- 
viction, weak  indeed,  and  yet  growing,  that  God  was  sending  him. 

On  his  arrival  at  Alexandria,  November  7,  1856,  he  wrote 
letters  giving  his  first  impressions: 

"  My  lordly  apartment  is  a  garret  in  an  old  building  called  the 
Wilderness.  Its  furniture  at  present  consists  of  a  bedstead  and 
a  washstand.  I  looked  in  for  a  moment,  threw  down  my  carpet 
bag,  and  ran.  I  suppose  I  've  got  to  sleep  there  to-night,  but 
I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  how.  There  seem  to  be  some  fine  fellows 
here.  They  are  very  hospitable,  and  would  kill  me  with  kindness 
if  I  would  stand  it.  They  are  about  half  from  the  North  and 
half  from  the  South.  I'm  in  a  perfect  wilderness  of  names,  for 
they  've  been  introducing  me  all  around  and  I  sha'n't  know  half 
of  them  again.  I  have  seen  the  head,  Dr.  Sparrow,  who  is  a 
thin,  tall  gentleman,  with  not  much  to  say.  So  Buchanan  is  our 
next   President.     ...     Of   course   there   is   nothing   of   the 

>  Cf.  New  Starts  in  Life  and  Other  Sermons,  by  Phillips  Brooks,  p.  12. 


4o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

brutality  of  slavery  here,  but  the  institution  is  degrading  the 
country  just  as  much.  All  the  servants  are  slaves.  Those  in 
the  seminary  are  let  out  by  their  masters  for  so  much  a  year, 
paid  of  course  to  the  master  just  as  you  'd  pay  for  a  horse  hired. 
.  .  .  I  had  a  stunning  time  in  New  York:  saw  most  of  the 
lions,  and  almost  walked  my  feet  off  all  over  the  city.  I  passed 
through  Baltimore  while  the  fight  was  raging,  and  heard  the 
whole  town  in  an  uproar.  Philadelphia  I  liked  very  much,  so 
far  as  I  saw  it.  Washington  is  a  sort  of  a  skeleton  affair,  splen- 
didly laid  out  and  about  half  grown.  The  public  buildings  strike 
me  as  decidedly  shabby.  The  Potomac  is  a  splendid  river;  we 
can  see  it  plainly  from  the  seminary,  as  also  the  Capitol  and 
Monument,  etc.,  at  Washington.  The  seminary  has  about  ioo 
acres  of  ground,  mostly  covered  with  oak  and  hickory.  The 
cedar  and  locust  trees  are  very  plenty  in  this  neighborhood.  I 
had  to  get  my  watch  put  twenty  minutes  back  in  Washington, 
which  convinced  me  that  I  was  getting  some  way  from  home. 
It  is  about  three  miles  to  Alexandria,  and  a  very  pleasant  walk. 
I  am  a  stronger  Fremont  man  than  ever,  since  seeing  Buchanan 
and  Fillmore  States,  and  know  nothing  that  I  would  not  do  to 
change  the  result.  The  only  hope  now  is  that  he  will  make  things 
bad  enough  to  call  forth  a  louder  and  wider  indignation  at  the 
next  election." 

"  I  am  looking  for  everybody  whom  I  have  any  claim  to  write  to, 
for  an  answer  to  a  letter  is  a  perfect  boon  in  this  remote  place. 
You  will  find  on  consulting  your  map  the  dirty  little  city  of 
Alexandria,  about  seven  miles  down  the  river  Potomac  from 
Washington,  and  about  two  miles  back  from  the  river  behind 
Alexandria,  on  a  high  hill  in  the  woods,  stands  this  institution. 
It  is  a  lonely,  desolate  sort  of  a  place,  with  about  forty  students. 
.  .  .  It  is  beautifully  situated,  overlooks  the  river  and  Wash- 
ington. ...  I  am  beginning  to  buck  into  Hebrew  pretty 
slowly,  and  like  it  extremely.  It  is  the  queerest  old  language 
I  ever  saw.  I  live  almost  entirely  by  myself,  see  little  or  nothing 
of  the  other  students.  ...  I  imagine  they  don't  think  much 
of  me.  The  course  here  is  three  years.  I  suppose  I  shall  stay 
that  time.  The  country  and  weather  here  is  glorious.  I  never 
saw  such  moonlight  nights  in  all  my  life.  But  the  people  are 
wretched,  shiftless,  uninteresting,  lazy,  deceitful.  I  suppose  it 
is  one  of  the  best  places  to  see  the  sad  effects  of  slavery  on  the 
white  population,  degrading  and  unmanning  them.  I  don't 
feel  much  like  saying  anything  of  the  election  [of  Buchanan]. 
The  people  around  here  are  delighted  with  the  result,  and  crowing 
and  exulting  as  if  they  had  saved  the  land.  There  are  crowds 
of  slaves  about  here;  very  many  of  them,  however,  are  hired 
from  other  parts  of  the  State,  and  from  other  States,  of  their 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  41 

masters  They  are  a  jolly-looking  set  of  people.  ...  I 
have  spent  considerable  time  since  I  have  been  here  over  in 
Washington  sightseeing.  There  is  ever  so  much  to  look  at,  and 
next  month,  when  Congress  is  sitting,  it  will  be  very  lively. 
At  present  it  is  dull  enough  so  far  as  company  is  concerned.  I 
have  just  been  invited  to  join  a  students'  party  in  a  sailboat  to- 
morrow, down  the  river  to  Mt.  Vernon,  and  am  going,  but  expect 
it  will  be  mighty  slow.  It  is  as  unlike  college  as  anything  can 
be.  ...  I  saw  Sanborn  shortly  before  I  left  Boston,  and 
had  a  long  walk  with  him  one  Sunday  afternoon.  He  was  still 
hopeful  about  election.  I  wonder  how  he  feels  now.  He  said 
that  if  Buchanan  was  elected  he  went  in  dead  for  a  dissolution  of 
the  Union.  Did  you  see  the  account  of  the  riot  in  Baltimore 
on  election  day?  I  came  through  there  on  that  day,  and  the 
whole  city  was  in  an  uproar.  I  stayed  there  about  an  hour,  and 
was  earnestly  importuned  to  vote,  in  spite  of  non-residence  and 
everything  else,  many  times.  I  sha'n't  go  near  Mr.  James 
Buchanan's  inauguration,  although  it  is  so  near." 

The  years  in  which  Brooks  was  at  Alexandria  saw  events 
rapidly  moving  toward  civil  war.  One  of  them  was  the  election 
of  Buchanan,  accomplished  by  the  Southern  States  with  the  aid 
of  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Indiana,  and  Illinois.  He  had 
been  travelling  to  Virginia  on  election  day.  His  letters  are  full 
of  political  allusions,  indicating  that  he  shared  in  the  anti- 
slavery  sentiments.  He  found  it  hard  to  adjust  himself  to  a 
country  where  slavery  existed.  What  was  going  on  in  the 
country  at  large  was  reproduced  among  the  students  in  the 
seminary,  who  were  about  equally  divided  in  sentiment  re- 
garding the  issues  of  the  hour.  There  were  suspicions  rife  at 
Alexandria  and  in  the  seminary  of  a  threatened  insurrection 
among  the  negroes,  which  had  led  to  some  manifestations  of  ill 
feeling  on  the  part  of  the  Southern  students  against  those  who 
came  from  the  North.  The  latter  had  probably  been  active  in 
teaching  the  negroes  to  read  and  write,  or  had  held  religious 
services  for  them.  A  member  of  the  seminary  at  the  time 
writes  of  this  affair: 

"The  'dear  old  seminary'  was  not  a  very  comfortable  place 
then  for  anti-slavery  men,  such  as  a  few  of  us  were,  especially 
if  we  exercised  and  claimed  the  right  of  free  speech.  When  one 
of  our  fellow-students  was  notified  that  he  would  be  'tarred  and 
feathered '  if  he  did  not  leave,  Phillips  stood  nobly  by  him,  and 


42  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

declared  that  the  men  of  the  North  must  all  leave  together  and. 
publicly  declare  their  reasons  for  withdrawing,  unless  they  were 
assured  of  protection  and  the  liberty  of  free  speech.  A  petition 
was  sent  to  the  faculty,  and  what  we  asked  was  granted;  and 
even  public  discussions  were  allowed  in  'Prayer  Hall.'  Slavery 
was  thoroughly  reviewed  in  its  political,  moral,  and  religious 
aspects,  and  leading  Southern  men  frankly  acknowledged  that 
they  had  known  but  little  of  the  animus  of  the  institution  [sla- 
very] until  they  heard  these  discussions;  their  views  and  feelings 
were  greatly  modified." 

To  this  description  is  added  Phillips  Brooks's  comment  in  a 
letter  to  his  father: 

"  The  affair  of  which  I  spoke  in  that  letter,  although  it  seems 
pretty  certain  that  it  was  all  a  groundless  panic,  is  having  a  bad 
effect.  It  has  excited  much  jealousy  among  the  Southern  stu- 
dents and  the  town  people  against  the  Northerners.  One  North- 
ern student,  who  has  held  a  meeting  once  a  week  for  the  servants 
of  the  seminary  and  the  neighbors,  has  received  notice  that  it 
must  be  given  up,  or  he  will  have  to  suffer.  .  .  .  Another  who 
has  preached  some  in  the  neighborhood,  has  been  informed  that 
there  was  tar  and  feathers  ready  for  him  if  he  went  far  from  the 
seminary.  And  in  general  they  have  been  given  to  understand 
that  their  tongues  were  tied  and  they  were  anything  but  free.  A 
pretty  style  of  life,  is  n't  it?  .  .  ." 

The  tone  of  his  letters  in  other  respects  shows  him  dissatisfied 
with  his  surroundings,  depressed,  and  anxious  to  get  away.  He 
admits  that  if  he  were  not  twenty-one,  he  should  say  he  was 
■  homesick.  One  striking  peculiarity  was  his  susceptibility  to  the 
i  influence  of  the  weather.  He  was  made  miserable,  incapable 
even  of  work  by  a  hopelessly  rainy  day.  Not  until  several  years 
later  does  he  seem  to  have  outgrown  this  peculiarity.  The 
Christmas  holidays  were  spent  in  Virginia,  but  were  enlivened 
by  a  visit  from  his  mother  and  his  brother  William.  Connected 
with  the  visit  was  the  circumstance  that  he  made  his  first  com- 
munion on  Christmas  Day,  kneeling  by  his  mother's  side  at  St. 
John's  Church  in  Washington.  He  had  not  yet  been  confirmed, 
but  from  this  time  it  may  be  inferred  that  he  was  "ready  and 
desirous."  He  also  took  steps  to  become  a  candidate  for  orders. 
But  there  is  some  reluctance  to  do  what  will  commit  him  to  the 
ministry  as  a  profession.  At  least  he  sees  no  reason  for  imme- 
diate action. 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  43 

As  the  months  went  by,  he  does  not  seem  to  have  become 
reconciled  to  the  situation.  He  expresses  a  strong  desire  to 
leave  and  try  his  fortunes  elsewhere.  The  teaching  he  com- 
plains of  as  most  inadequate,  as  not  what  he  needs  or  wants. 
Judged  by  the  standards  at  Harvard,  with  which  he  compares  it, 
it  seemed  greatly  inferior.  So  far  did  he  go  under  the  influence 
of  this  mood,  that  one  of  his  friends  was  induced  to  write  to  the 
president  of  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  asking  for  the 
terms  of  admission  there.  Something  might  have  come  out  of 
this  appeal  for  relief,  had  not  the  Andover  authorities  delayed 
too  long  with  their  reply.  And  when  the  answer  came,  it  was 
not  altogether  encouraging.  He  was  told  that  if  he  and  his 
friends  came  to  Andover,  they  would  be  expected  to  attend  the 
college  chapel.  He  characterizes  the  letter  as  "short  and  very 
stuffy  and  to  my  ideas  a  very  ungentlemanly  note."  In  almost 
every  letter  he  bewails  his  condition.  The  instruction  he  receives 
is  useless,  it  is  doing  nothing  for  him.  He  has  heard  of  a  new 
seminary  to  be  established  in  Philadelphia,  which  he  thinks  may 
be  better  but  cannot  be  worse.  He  has  a  scheme  of  condensing 
the  three  years  into  two  and  spending  a  third  elsewhere.  He 
also  remarks,  "if  it  had  not  been  for  something  done  outside  our 
regular  course,  I  should  not  have  known  what  study  was." 

Among  his  trials  was  the  sense  of  isolation^  the  loss  of  connec- 
tion with  the  large  world  of  human  interests  through  lack  of 
reviews  and  periodical  literature,  the  deprivation  of  great  libra- 
ries. To  overcome  the  want  he  sought  to  establish  a  reading- 
room;  but  want  of  funds  and  of  any  general  interest  prevented 
its  success.  In  later  years  he  saw  the  meaning  in  this  temporary 
separation  from  the  world  and  was  wont  to  enlarge  upon  its  pur- 
pose when  addressing  students  for  the  ministry. 

It  should  be  said  in  relation  to  the  Virginia  Seminary,  that  at 
the  time  when  Brooks  was  there,  it  was  most  highly  regarded 
and  as  a  little  better  than  any  other  theological  school  in  the  Epis- 
copal Church.  It  had  done  great  things  for  the  Church.  To 
many  it  seemed  like  a  Mecca,  because  of  its  sacred  associations. 
But  Brooks  was  right  in  thinking  of  Andover  as  having  at  the 
time  a  higher  standard.  Princeton  and  Union  seminaries  also 
could  have  given  him  what  Alexandria  and  other  schools  in  the 
Episcopal  Church  did  not  and  could  not.     But  the  real  guidance 


44  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

for  which  he  sought  could  have  been  found  nowhere.  Had  he 
gone  elsewhere  he  would  have  been  dissatisfied  still,  and  possibly 
that  other  work  he  was  doing  for  himself  would  not  have  been 
done.  The  misery  of  his  situation  was  the  divinely  appointed 
condition  of  his  growth.  For  the  rest,  he  suffered  in  being  trans- 
planted from  one  social  climate  to  another.  His  devotion  to 
Harvard  was  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  acclimation.  But  by  the 
close  of  his  first  year  away  from  home,  he  had  begun  to  take  root 
in  the  new  soil;  the  process  of  wilting  had  been  survived;  though 
he  did  not  realize  it,  a  new  life  was  circulating  in  his  veins. 

The  students  in  the  seminary  contemporary  with  Brooks  have 
left  on  record  their  impression  of  him :  "He  was  without  a  rival 
as  a  writer  of  beautiful  English  and  a  poetical  thinker,"  says 
Bishop  Randolph;  "we  felt  the  charm  of  originality  in  his 
thought  and  the  sympathy  in  his  voice;  ...  a  beautiful  mind 
was  among  us  ...  of  singular  purity  and  strength."  The 
following  extract  gives  interesting  detail  in  regard  to  life  at  the 
seminary  as  well  as  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  Brooks. 

"  It  was  in  November  of  the  year  1856  that  I  first  met  Phillips 
Brooks.  The  term  had  already  begun  at  the  Alexandria  sem- 
inary. .  .  .  Brooks,  coming  late,  and  finding  the  best  places 
taken,  was  billeted  in  an  attic  room  above  us,  where  he  could  not 
stand  at  his  full  height.  It  was  already  as  great,  perhaps,  as 
afterwards,  but  his  frame  was  spare  and  did  not  fill  out  to  its  full 
proportions  for  some  years. 

"  There  were  no  very  recent  Harvard  men  then  in  the  seminary, 
and  Phillips  Brooks  came  unheralded.  .  .  .  He  made  no  immediate 
impression  on  us.  He  was  modest,  quiet,  reserved,  with  rather 
more  of  the  Massachusetts  frostiness  than  he  exhibited  in  later 
years,  after  contact  with  various  men.   .   .  . 

' '  The  seminary  life  was  simple  and  primitive.  Many  of  us  sawed 
our  own  wood,  made  our  own  fires,  and  did  nearly  all  of  our  own 
chores.  The  driver  of  the  mail  wagon  did  our  few  errands  and 
made  our  few  purchases  at  Alexandria,  some  four  miles  distant. 
Our  clothes  were  not  always  of  the  latest  cut,  nor  in  the  freshest 
condition.  We  took  our  meals,  abundant  but  not  luxurious,  in  a 
basement,  half  under  ground.  .  .  .  Adjoining  the  dining-room 
was  Prayer  Hall,  a  large  uncarpeted  room,  with  a  desk  and  long 
wooden  benches  for  its  only  furniture.  The  ceiling  was  low,  the 
walls  were  whitewashed;  I  think  no  picture  of  any  sort  relieved 
their  blank  surfaces.  Here  some  of  the  recitations  were  said; 
here  we  met  for  prayers  and  for  a  weekly  gathering  known  as 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  45 

faculty  meeting,  when  a  professor  made  a  few  remarks  bearing 
on  the  cultivation  of  spiritual  life,  and  the  other  professors — 
there  were  but  three — took  up  their  parable  in  turn  and  empha- 
sized the  lesson.  The  talk  was  devout,  earnest,  tending  to  be 
pietistic,  but  mainly  useful  and  simple.  Another  evening  in  the 
week  a  debating  society  met  in  the  same  place,  when  papers  were 
read,  topics  discussed,  and  criticism  offered.  .  .  . 

"  I  do  not  remember  that  Phillips  Brooks  took  any  part  in  our 
debates,  made  any  cutting  comments,  or  displayed  any  of  the 
extemporaneous  power  which  afterwards  distinguished  him.  But 
from  the  first  his  writing  stamped  him  as  no  common  man.  It 
had  the  ease  and  charm  of  a  master.  .  .  .  There  may  have  lin- 
gered something  still  of  the  overluxuriance  of  springtime,  but  it 
was  a  graceful  luxuriance,  not  a  wasteful  and  ridiculous  excess. 
Harvard  severity  of  taste  had  already  nipped  some  straggling 
shoots  and  repressed  some  exuberances.  Brooks  loved  to  tell 
how  Professor  Child  had  damped  his  pristine  ardor.  He  had 
begun  a  college  composition  by  an  elaborate  flourish  of  trumpets, 
and  had  carefully  inserted  a  purple  patch  of  which  he  was  not  a 
little  proud.  What  was  his  consternation,  when  the  paper  came 
back,  to  find  at  the  close  of  his  labored  introduction  the  pencilled 
comment,  'Begin  here.'  .  .  . 

"  It  was  an  uninspiring  life  for  the  most  part  which  we  led  at  the 
seminary,  something  very  unlike  the  eager  throbbing  life  of  our 
great  theological  schools  to-day.  .  .  .  There  were  no  lectures  to 
supplement  the  text-books.  The  recitations  were  hardly  calculated 
to  impart  knowledge ;  they  seemed  designed  rather  to  betray  how 
little  we  had  acquired.  There  was  much  fervor  and  piety  among 
us,  less  enthusiasm  for  scholarship.  Good  men  were  not  sensi- 
tive to  failures  in  the  classroom.  There  was  little  serious  think- 
ing, little  outside  reading,  either  in  theology  or  literature.  The 
library  was  small,  merely,  I  think,  a  dumping-place  for  the  collec- 
tions of  departed  Virginia  ministers.  .  .  . 

"  Still,  with  whatever  imperfect  apparatus  and  unstimulating 
atmosphere,  those  who  had  a  mind  to  work  worked  on  in  their 
own  lines  with  neither  encouragement  nor  opposition.  .  .  . 
Brooks  was  a  faithful  student  in  and  out  of  the  required  course. 
He  had  brought  from  college  a  sound  knowledge  of  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  used  it  in  a  very  considerable  amount  of  reading  in 
the  Church  Fathers,  of  whom  by  some  unexplained  accident 
there  chanced  to  be  in  the  library  the  Abbe"  Migne's  edition.  .  .  . 

"  I  do  not  think  that  Brooks  in  any  way  took  our  hearts  by 
storm  or  extorted  an  immediate  admiration  except  for  his  ability 
as  a  writer.  He  was  liked,  as  others  were.  There  was  no  special 
brilliancy  in  his  talk,  there  was  no  visible  superiority  in  his  char- 
acter to  that  of  others  about  him.  His  piety  was  real,  but  not 
demonstrative.     When  he  offered  prayer  at  any  of  our  meetings 


46  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

you  could  not  but  feel  that  God  was  very  near  and  living  to  him. 
In  his  most  serious  moments  there  was  no  appalling  gravity  about 
him.  He  was  not  perpetually  prying  into  his  own  soul  or  ours. 
He  was  alive  and  growing  and  took  it  for  granted  his  fellows  were, 
without  stopping  to  pull  up  their  roots  or  his  own  to  see.  He 
was  very  human  then  and  always.  I  do  not  remember  that  he 
told  good  stories  in  those  days.  Certainly  he  enjoyed  them.  A 
quiet  humor  bubbled  up  through  all  his  talk.  Some  of  our 
happiest  moments  were  after  the  midday  meal,  when  he  would 
often  stray  into  another  student's  room  for  a  cup  of  digestive 
coffee.  .  .  . 

"  It  was  understood  that  we  were  always  welcome  at  the  houses 
of  the  professors.  Once  or  twice  a  year,  perhaps,  we  used  our 
privilege.  It  was  our  chief  dissipation.  As  the  chairs  were 
pushed  back  from  the  tea-table,  we  sat  in  our  places,  family 
prayers  followed,  and  the  discreet  did  not  linger  too  long  after 
the  benediction.  The  roads  were  dark,  the  mud  deep,  the  dogs 
loud-mouthed,  the  neighbors  were  scattered  and  we  saw  little 
of  them.  It  was  pure  cloistral  life  for  the  most  part.  In  one  of 
Brooks's  letters  in  the  year  that  he  outstayed  me  at  the  seminary, 
he  writes  of  'another  winter's  mental  and  moral  bleakness  on 
that  poor  hill,'  and  in  another  occurs  a  revealing  sentence, 
'  When  are  you  coming  to  see  us  ?  Leave  your  intellect  behind ; 
you  won't  need  it  here.' 

"  The  churchmanship  of  the  time  and  place  was  not  advanced. 
The  ritual  was  simple  to  barrenness.  The  music  was  a  repeated 
martyrdom  of  St.  Cecilia.  It  was  not  uncommon  for  the  profes- 
sors to  appear  in  the  chancel  in  their  overcoats,  and  lay  down 
gloves  and  muffler  in  the  font  or  on  the  communion  table.  The 
architect  of  a  new  chapel  of  a  nondescript  form  of  Gothic  had  ven- 
tured to  relieve  the  dead  level  of  the  pews  by  a  modest  trefoil  or 
poppy-head  rising  at  the  end  of  each,  a  little  above  the  rest.  A 
lively  imagination  might  see  a  foliated  cross  in  them.  Bishop 
Meade  had  such  an  imagination.  Bishop  Johns  had  winked  at 
them,  but  the  elder  Bishop  would  not  trifle  with  his  convictions. 
He  arrived  to  dedicate  the  building.  He  inspected  it  the  night 
before.  A  carpenter  was  summoned  and  every  poppy-head  was 
laid  low  before  the  opening  service.  The  erring  excrescences 
were  treasured  in  memoriam  in  the  rooms  of  wailing  students. 
Yet  the  number  of  extreme  ritualists  proceeding  from  the  Vir- 
ginia seminary,  strange  to  say,  is  small."1 

Neither  the  letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  during  his  first  year  in 
the  seminary  nor  the  reminiscences  of  his  friends  give  us  the 

i  Rev.  C.  A.  L.  Richards,  in  Remembrances  of  Phillips  Brooks  by  Two  of 
his  Friends.     Boston.     Printed  for  the  Members  of  the  Clericus  Club,  1 893 . 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  47 

whole  man.  There  is  fortunately  a  third  source,  where  he 
continues  to  reveal  himself  as  he  had  begun  to  do  in  those  waiting 
months  of  depression,  before  he  made  up  his  mind  to  theology 
as  a  possible  opening  in  life.  From  the  moment  that  he  reached 
Virginia,  he  began  the  practice  of  keeping  note-books.  They 
can  hardly  be  called  journals,  in  the  ordinary  sense;  they  are  not 
exactly  commonplace  books.  They  are  "notes  of  the  mind"  or 
"notes  of  the  soul,"  containing  evidence  of  intellectual  and 
religious  growth.  But  it  is  religious  life  of  no  ordinary  kind. 
It  does  not  assume  the  familiar  aspect  of  meditation  or  self- 
examination.  Sentiment  and  feeling  do  not  predominate,  but 
rather  an  intellectual  and  ethical  tone.  It  is  a  record  of  thoughts, 
so  he  seems  to  regard  them,  floating  down  to  him  from  the  open 
heavens. 

When  he  went  to  the  theological  seminary  he  seems  to  have 
made  a  determination  to  do  hard  and  thorough  work.  He  had 
a  misgiving  that  his  years  in  Harvard  had  not  been  improved 
to  the  utmost.  It  was  a  blessing  in  disguise  that  he  now  found 
himself  compelled  to  take  his  theological  education  in  a  measure 
into  his  own  hand.  He  was  free  to  inquire,  he  had  leisure  to  read 
and  ponder,  above  all  to  study  himself.  If  a  theological  seminary 
offers  that  opportunity,  it  is,  for  those  who  can  appreciate  it, 
accomplishing  one  of  the  highest  purposes  of  education. 

The  first  thing  which  impresses  one  in  turning  over  these  note- 
books is  the  capacity  shown  for  scholarship.  In  his  classical 
proficiency,  he  had  attained  a  source  of  power  for  the  enlarge- 
ment of  his  life.  The  moment  had  come  when  Greek  and  Latin 
were  at  his  disposal,  as  means  of  entering  into  other  worlds  of 
human  experience.  It  was  a  thrilling  moment  when  this  revela- 
tion flashed  over  him,  turning  what  had  before  been  drudgery 
into  pleasure,  the  consciousness,  as  it  were,  of  new  faculties. 
Thus  in  the  first  few  months  after  he  reached  the  seminary,  we 
find  him  reading  Herodotus  and  .^schylus,  and  among  Latin 
writers,  Plautus,  Lucretius,  and  Lucan;  of  ecclesiastical  writers, 
Augustine,  Tertullian,  and  the  Venerable  Bede.  Tertullian 
attracted  him  with  a  singular  charm,  as  though  he  found  in  that 
vehement,  passionate  soul  something  akin  to  his  own  moods. 
From  all  these  writers  he  was  making  extracts,  sometimes  in  the 
original,  or  translating  as  an  exercise  for  the  mastery  of  the 


4S  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

language.  He  kept  up  his  French  and  was  tempted  to  try  his 
hand  at  a  translation  of  Schiller's  W allenstein. 

Next  to  the  study  of  the  classics  and  early  ecclesiastical 
writers  comes  his  devotion  to  English  literature.  He  was  reading 
many  books.  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  and  Shelley,  Shakespeare, 
Milton,  Robert  Browning  and  Mrs.  Browning,  Emerson,  Cowley, 
Waller,  Henry  Taylor,  Landor,  Keats,  Southey,  Johnson,  Piers 
Plowman,  Chaucer,  Barry  Cornwall,  Whittier,  Sir  Thomas  Over- 
bury,  Ossian,  Pope,  Swift,  Charlotte  Bronte-,  Kingsley,  Holmes, 
Dryden,  Chatterton,  Lowell,  Carlyle,  Cowper,  Shaftesbury,  Rus- 
kin,  Jones  Very, — the  Salem  mystic ;  these  are  the  authors  into 
whom  he  is  dipping  at  will,  from  whom  also  he  is  making  extracts 
in  his  note-books.  His  quotations  reveal  his  own  tendencies, 
becoming  part  of  his  mental  furniture.  There  is  here  disclosed 
a  hunger  after  the  best  thought  of  the  world. 

Another  decided  taste  was  for  books  descriptive  of  ancient 
peoples  and  their  customs.  In  this  list  are  found  Layard's 
Nineveh  and  its  Remains,  Heeren's  Nations  of  Antiquity,  Becker's 
Gallus  and  Charicles,  Wines's  Lectures  on  the  Ancient  Hebrews, 
Kane's  Arctic  Explorations,  Josephus's  Jewish  Wars,  Prideaux's 
Connections,  Asiatic  Researches  by  Sir  William  Jones.  He  men- 
tions also  Stirling's  Cloister  Life  of  Charles  V.,  Prescott's 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  and  Coxe's  House  of  Austria. 

There  are  traces  of  English  theological  reading, — Bishop 
Butler's  Sermons,  Milman's  History  of  the  Jews,  Heylin's 
and  Fuller's  histories  of  the  English  Church,  Hengsten- 
berg's  Christology,  Olshausen's  Commentary,  which  yielded 
many  suggestive  hints ;  and  for  religious  and  devotional  reading, 
Kingsley's  Sermons  for  the  Times  and  Huntington's  Sermons 
for  the  People.  This  is  indeed  meagre  compared  with  his 
other  lines  of  reading,  but  must  be  supplemented  by  his  study 
of  the  Church  Fathers  and  by  the  work  of  the  classroom,  his 
study  of  the  Old  Testament  in  Hebrew  and  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment in  Greek,  and  another  work  now  hardly  known,  Knapp's 
Systematic  Divinity. 

One  of  the  striking  features  of  the  note-books  is  the  large 
amount  of  verse.  Most  of  it  appears  to  have  been  written 
rapidly  without  effort  at  correction;  or  if  he  corrects  he  rarely 
improves  upon  his  first  utterance.     He  did  not  study  the  laws 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  49 

of  metre  or  of  rhythm;  he  wrote  for  his  inward  satisfaction, 
under  compulsion  to  give  form  or  restraint  to  emotion.  In  an 
address  on  poetry,  delivered  at  the  Howard  School,  near  Alex- 
andria (1859),  he  justifies  its  production  on  the  ground  that  "all 
men  may  be  and  ought  to  be  poets  all  the  time."  "There  are 
times  when  it  is  good  for  any  man  to  perpetrate  a  page  or  two" ; 
but  he  adds,  "There  is  a  good  deal  of  poetry  that  is  perfectly 
justifiable  to  write  but  utterly  inexcusable  to  show  when  written." 
Of  the  mood  which  justifies  the  poetic  effort  he  says: 

"  There  are  times  when  the  dullest  souls  among  us  fledge  un- 
guessed-of  wings  and  turn  to  sudden  poets.  There  are  books 
whose  singing  is  contagious,  and  sunrises  which  turn  all  live 
men  into  Memnon  statues.  We  find  poems  written  in  the  world 
that  we  cannot  help  reading  and  singing.  Out  of  as  prosaic  a 
car  window  as  your  road  can  boast,  I  saw  God  write  a  gorgeous 
poem  this  very  morning.  With  a  fresh  sunbeam  for  a  pencil, 
on  a  broad  sheet  of  level  snow,  the  diamond  letters  were  spelled 
out  one  by  one  till  the  whole  was  aflame  with  poetry.  I  could 
have  defied  the  deadest  soul  in  that  hot  car  to  have  looked  out  of 
that  window  and  not  heard  that  song  of  the  Almighty  sing  itself 
within  his  brain. 

"  This  creative  power  of  making  a  world  of  beauty  in  the  soul 
out  of  the  beauty  of  the  earth  outside  of  us,  is  what  makes  one 
young  man  stronger  and  purer  than  his  fellows.  ...  It 
comes  the  nearest  to  being  superhuman,  to  getting  outside  the 
chafing  humanities,  the  weaknesses,  the  limitations,  the  hard 
harness  of  routine." 

Another  persistent  feature  in  the  note-books  is  the  cultivation 
of  form  and  style.  He  states  his  idea,  expands  and  illustrates  it, 
and  clothes  it  in  most  fitting  language.  It  looks  as  if  he  were 
testing  himself  in  advance,  anticipating  the  preacher's  task  in 
the  presence  of  an  invisible  audience.  Incidental  to  this  pur- 
pose is  the  accumulation  of  ideas,  striking  phrases,  or  epi- 
grammatic stat  ments.  The  rich  and  graceful  style,  the 
literary  wealth  and  suggestiveness,  the  abounding  metaphors, 
— these  features  which  marked  his  style  came  by  the  hard 
effort  of  years  of  preparation.  A  native  gift  in  this  direc- 
tion had  been  cultivated  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability. 
There  are  also  many  hundreds  of  similes  collected  here, 
which  afterwards  reappeared  in  his  preaching.     In  this  study 


5o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  the  simile  as  an  art,  there  is  a  philosophical  method.  He 
quotes  from  Olshausen's  Commentary  on  Romans  a  passage  that 
met  his  approval: 

"  Men  are  wont  to  say  that  parables  prove  nothing.  Neverthe- 
less comparisons  often  teach  by  depth  of  meaning  infinitely  more 
and  better  than  all  abstract  arguments,  seeing  they  are  devised 
from  nature,  the  mirror  of  the  glory  of  the  unseen  God,  living 
demonstrations,  as  it  were,  of  the  Most  High  God  Himself." 

We  are  watching  here  in  the  springtime  of  a  rare  soul,  ad- 
mitted into  the  secret  process  of  its  growth.  But  of  this  process, 
the  books  that  he  browsed  over  do  not  form  the  largest  part. 
They  were  the  conditions  under  which  his  spirit  was  taking 
wings  for  its  independent  flight.  He  was  becoming  conscious 
of  the  possession  of  creative  power.  His  spirit  grew  stronger 
within  him,  and  he  had  moods  of  inward  joy  and  triumph.  He 
was  awakening  to  the  beauty  of  outward  nature ;  his  soul  thrilled 
at  some  exquisite  landscape;  there  was  a  perpetual  con- 
sciousness of  the  glory  of  sunrise  or  sunset;  he  watched  the 
brooks,  and  meditated  on  the  meaning  of  flowers  and  fields,  of 
all  that  met  his  vision.  Wordsworth  was  doing  his  part  in  this 
dawning  revelation  of  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  natural 
world,  and  Shelley  also;  but  they  brought  their  message  to  a  soul 
preordained  for  its  reception.  From  his  childhood,  and  through 
all  his  years,  the  simple,  elementary  consciousness  of  being  alive 
and  on  this  earth,  the  open  eye  for  the  special  revelation  given  in 
the  coming  of  each  new  day,  the  delight  in  observing  the  power 
of  the  sun  to  beautify  and  glorify  the  creation, — these  simplest 
of  the  natural  sensations  never  lost  the  novelty  of  their  charm, 
as  if  each  new  day  was  a  fresh  miracle,  as  if  each  day  he  saw  the 
wondrous  phenomenon  for  the  first  time.  In  his  sermons  will  be 
found  the  ever-recurring  allusion  to  the  sun  as  the  symbol  of 
the  spiritual  life.  Such  was  the  foundation  on  which  he  reared 
the  superstructure  of  his  appeal. 

Immediately  on  reaching  Virginia,  he  began  his  self-imposed 
task,  and  for  three  years  continued  it,  unaware  of  its  profound 
import,  but  conscious  of  some  power  within,  first  revealed  in 
the  days  of  his  failure  and  disappointment.  Of  the  work  he 
was  doing  he  spoke  to  no  one.     In  his  new  abode,  solitary  among 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  51 

strangers,  in  an  inconvenient  room,  with  a  bed  too  short  for  him, 
with  no  "armchair"  or  any  of  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of 
life,  with  only  the  light  afforded  by  a  tallow  candle,  he  sat  down 
at  the  earliest  moment  to  catch  and  portray  the  images  floating 
in  his  mind. 

"  November  14,  1856.  For  our  virtue  should  not  be  a  deed  or 
a  work,  but  a  growth, — a  growth  like  a  tree's,  always  rising  higher 
from  its  own  inner  strength  and  sap;  not  a  work  like  a  building 
patched  upon  by  foreign  hands,  with  foreign  substance,  and  so 
when  done  unreal,  foreign  itself,  and  not  our  own.  Or  it  should 
be  like  a  statue  worked  slowly  out  of  the  hard  old  grain  of  the 
native  stone :  not  like  a  painting,  a  cheat  of  foreign  color  with  all 
its  artificial  beauties  of  perspective,  foreshortening,  and  shadow." 

"  December  1,  1856.  To  many  minds  a  ceremony  or  a  form 
comes  with  all  the  force  of  a  principle  or  a  fact.  Not  'what 
man  has  done  man  may  do,'  but  what  man  has  done  man  must 
do  is  their  creed,  which  cramps  their  limbs  and  chills  their  blood 
and  makes  them  fail  of  the  little  good  they  are  seeking.  For  no 
man  by  sheer  imitation  has  yet  reached  his  pattern.  Even 
if  in  native  power  he  is  more  than  equal  to  the  task,  and  so  in 
outward  deeds  even  excels  his  example,  the  flush  and  glow  of 
original  achievement,  which  made  the  model  a  living,  warm, 
breathing  thing,  is  wanting  to  the  copy  which  is  cold  and  stiff 
and  dead." 

' '  December  3,1856.  Suppose  a  single  day  of  perfect  sincerity,  a 
day  with  no  falsehood,  no  sham,  but  only  purest  truth,  when  a  lie 
should  be  an  impossibility  and  a  cheat  unheard  of  from  the  rising 
to  the  setting  of  the  sun.  How  earth's  eyes  would  open  before 
that  day  was  done !  What  golden  shrines  it  would  pull  down  and 
show  the  hideous  gibbering  idol  that  grins  within!  What  Esau- 
skins  it  would  tear  off,  what  good  men  it  would  turn  to  knaves  and 
knaves  to  very  devils!  How  long  before  the  noon  of  that  day 
men  would  go  crying  for  the  rocks  and  hills  to  fall  on  them  and 
hide  them  from  a  sincere  world  and  themselves!  But  oh,  it  is 
cheering  to  think  that  there  are  characters  which  would  show 
brighter  for  that  day,  characters  that  would  stand  like  unruined 
ruins,  hung  over  with  moss  and  ivy,  and  heaped  in  rubbish  of 
old  dead  forms  and  dry  ceremonies,  which  would  shake  off  all 
this  defilement,  to  stand  out  in  their  simple,  honest,  beautiful, 
native  beauty,  in  the  clear  light  of  the  world's  truest  day." 

"December  5,  1856.  Wholly  deprecating  any  morbid  weakness 
over  the  past,  I  still  say  that  we  are  too  much  afraid  to  look  the 


52  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

lives  we  have  been  living  in  the  face.  We  are  ashamed  and 
shrink  from  owning  and  claiming  our  past  selves.  They  have 
been  weak  and  wicked,  and  we,  whose  their  wickedness  and  weak- 
ness really  are,  have  not  the  manliness  to  bear  the  shame.  We 
turn  with  a  shudder  from  the  poor  offspring  of  our  lives,  and  say 
with  Hagar,  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child.  Oh,  if  we 
can  only  hear  God's  angel  calling,  'Fear  not,  for  I  have  heard 
the  voice  of  the  lad  where  he  is,'  'Arise,  lift  up  the  lad,  for  I 
will  make  him  a  great  nation,'  and  we  do  arise  and  take  our  old 
poor  weak  lives  in  our  hands  and  go  forth  to  train  them  by  God's 
strength  into  richness  and  power." 

"December  7,  1856.  The  danger  with  a  cherished  idea  is 
simply  the  same  as  with  a  graven  image,  that  it  will  cease  to 
become  a  symbol  and  become  a  god,  that  our  mind,  long  bent 
down  to  the  thought,  however  great,  will  become  stiff  and  strong 
in  its  bending  and  no  longer  spring  up  to  the  Father  of  thoughts. 
Thus  the  purest  reason,  which  is  the  purest  religion,  turns  to 
rationalism,  which  is  idolatry.  For  reverence  is  the  eyelash 
that  lets  us  endure  the  sun,  which  lost,  we  must  make  up  our 
minds  to  darkness  for  the  rest  of  our  lives,  and  give  up  forever  all 
thoughts  of  the  vigor  and  health  and  pure  richness  of  life  which 
sunlight  only  gives." 

"  December  9,1856.  If  a  sense  of  duty  were  made  the  measur- 
ing requisite  of  mental  strength,  if  just  in  proportion  as  a  man 
earnestly  recognized  the  work  there  was  to  do  on  earth  his  share 
was  measured  out  to  him,  and  mind  and  strength  was  given  him 
to  do  it,  how  with  a  will  and  a  stir  earth's  labor  would  go  on. 
This  is  what  we  need, — to  bring  the  will  to  meet  the  power.  There  is 
enough  of  both,  but  they  lie  in  different  hands,  and  oh,  how  often 
the  men  who  hold  the  power  stand  like  savages  on  some  new- 
found golden  coast,  holding  out  their  priceless  treasures,  and 
proud  and  eager  to  barter  them  for  some  childish  trinket  or  poor 
worthless  toy." 

"  December  20,  1856.  If  a  thought  comes  and  offers  its  service 
question  it  like  a  man.  What  can  you  do?  Are  you  a  worker? 
Can  you  sow  and  dig  and  build?  Are  you  a  schemer?  Can  you 
scheme,  divine,  invent?  Are  you  a  teacher?  Can  you  show  us 
better  ways  to  live  and  better  ways  to  die?  Are  you  an  artist? 
Can  you  clothe  our  lives  with  more  beauty,  making  them  know 
more  of  holiness  and  purity  and  love  and  God?  Ask  these  ques- 
tions, and  let  no  thought  enter  your  service  that  cannot  answer 
them  freely  and  well,  and  the  mysticism  of  thought  is  gone  and 
the  thinker  is  the  most  practical  of  men." 


\r 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  53 

"December  21,  1856  Yes,  Originality  is  a  fine  thing,  but  first 
have  you  the  head  to  bear  it?  Can  you  walk  under  it  without 
reeling  and  staggering  about  the  world,  catching  at  every  weak 
support  to  keep  you  steady,  with  a  whole  pack  of  little  minds 
hooting  and  jeering  and  pelting  you  with  mire  all  the  way?  And 
have  you  the  heart  for  it?  Can  you  wear  it  within  as  well  as 
without,  be  warmed  to  the  core  with  the  fire  of  its  life?  It  is  so 
easy  to  be  a  John  the  Baptist  as  far  as  the  wilderness  and  goat's 
hair  and  leathern  girdle  and  the  locusts  and  wild  honey  go,  but 
the  glowing  heart  to  speak  from  and  the  holy  words  to  speak  are 
a  different  thing.  The  average  chance  is  that  it  will  be  better 
in  the  long  run  for  you  and  me  to  stay  at  home  and  work  as  our 
fathers  work,  counting  that  very  work  a  fortune  in  itself.  Be- 
sides it  is  dangerous,  this  trifling  with  novelties.  It  requires 
hazardous  experiments  before  we  can  be  at  all  sure  that  they  will 
answer  our  purpose." 

"January  1,  1857.  How  we  grow  more  and  more  to  see  that  it 
is  the  will  and  the  feelings,  far  more  than  any  thought,  upon 
which  almost  all  our  life  and  loved  opinions  rest.  How  much  of 
our  faith  is  obstinacy,  how  much  of  our  devotion  sentiment,  how 
much  of  our  religion  pride;  how  much  working  strength  there  is 
in  a  blind  determination  and  how  little  in  a  clear-eyed  thought. 
Mohammed  knew  all  this  and  built  Mohammedanism  upon  senti- 
ment and  will,  and  stamped  the  marks  of  shrewd  sense  upon  it 
when  he  forbade  the  Islamite  to  dispute  on  his  religion." 

' '  January  11,1857.  A  noble  cause  cannot  of  itself  make  a  man 
noble.  We  must  despair  of  growing  great,  unless  we  can  feel  that 
we  are  given  to  the  cause  to  work  for  it,  and  not  it  to  work  for  us. 
In  the  old  torch  races  of  Pan,  the  rule  was  that  each  runner  should 
hold  his  torch  as  long  as  it  kept  its  light,  but  when  he  flagged  he 
must  hand  it  to  another  who  stood  ready  girded  to  follow  up  the 
race.  And  so  it  must  be  with  us.  We  must  recognize  the  great 
end  of  all  this  panting  and  running  and  toiling,  not  that  you  or  I 
should  reach  the  goal,  and  be  rich  or  honored  in  men's  mouths, 
but  that  the  torch  of  truth  that  was  put  into  our  hands  when  we 
started  should  reach  the  people  at  the  end  all  alight  with  truth  as 
when  we  took  it.  Let  it  be  our  hands,  if  we  can,  that  bring  it 
there,  and  then  the  honor  shall  be  ours ;  but  that  must  not  be  our 
end,  and  when  we  see  it  sinking  and  going  out,  let  no  petty  con- 
ceit or  unfledged  pride  keep  us  from  giving  it  to  a  fresher  and 
stronger  man,  with  a  hearty  Godspeed  to  run  the  next  stage  of 
the  same  great  journey.  Thus  we  win  a  broadness  and  deepness 
and  fulness  of  character  that  sinks  all  little  human  ventures  like 
the  sea." 


54  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"February  6,  1857.  What  has  become  of  all  that  blessing  of 
Christ  which  He  left  with  His  people  on  earth  on  that 'first  day 
of  the  week,  when  the  doors  were  shut  where  the  disciples  were 
assembled  for  fear  of  the  Jews,  and  Jesus  came  and  stood  in  the 
midst,  and  said  unto  them,  '  Peace  be  unto  you'?  Has  it  with- 
ered in  the  scorching  heat  of  the  world's  fiery  hopes  and  more 
fiery  fears,  and  rage  and  scorn  and  ignorance  and  pride?  Or  is  it 
still  bright  with  the  everlasting  freshness  of  its  miraculous  youth, 
making  humble  hearts  more  holy,  and  holy  lives  more  happy 
wherever  there  is  a  clear  eye,  or  better  still  a  clear  heart,  to  see 
its  beauty  and  great  power  of  making  blessed?  When  He  sent  it 
on  earth  in  a  few  weak  men's  hands  and  it  floated  down  on  weak 
men's  breath,  as  centuries  before  the  hope  of  Israel  had  drifted  in 
a  bulrush  cradle  down  the  Nile,  till  some  unthinking  and  unknow- 
ing hand  could  take  it  up  and  nurture  it  and  make  it  strong  and 
noble  in  the  high  places  of  the  land,  He  sent  it  with  a  power  to 
insure  its  life.  ..." 

"  February,  1857.  In  spite  of  all  the  mischief  that  over-credu- 
lous delusion  has  always  done,  I  still  say  we  need  more  faith  upon 
earth.  We  have  not  the  trust  that  we  ought  to  have  in  God  and 
nature,  in  human  hopes  and  dreams  and  bright  stray  thoughts 
that  have  wandered  from  their  homes  in  heaven,  with  light  and 
glory  and  unproven  truth  still  glorifying  them,  and  come  and  ask 
us  to  take  them  in  from  the  cold  world  where  they  feel  strange, 
and  shelter  and  cherish  them  while  they  shall  lighten  our  hearts 
and  homes.  We  turn  them  away,  for  we  do  not  believe  in  them. 
We  do  not  trust  to  poetry  or  art,  to  our  neighbors  or  ourselves. 
'Lord,  increase  our  faith.'  ...  I  would  trust  in  human  good- 
ness and  purity  and  truth  as  I  do  in  the  yearly  return  of  May,  a 
day  or  two  later  perhaps,  one  or  two  more  cold  storms  or  dead 
dull  frozen  days  in  one  year  than  another,  but  sure  to  come  at 
last,  unable  in  any  event  to  fail  of  coming  as  long  as  this  world 
in  this  world,  and  nature  what  it  has  always  been. 

"It  is  not  for  us  to  make  our  lives  artistic,  we  can  only  make 
them  true.  If  we  give  ourselves  to  a  weak  attempt  to  build  them 
for  effect,  to  place  ourselves  where  some  critical  observer  might 
stand  and  fashion  them  to  suit  his  point  of  view,  we  shall  surely 
make  them  wretched  failures.  It  is  not  thus  that  nature  works. 
There  is  no  studied  symmetry,  no  measured  perspective,  no  con- 
scious foreshortening  in  her  great  original.  All  this  is  left  to  the 
observer's  eye,  and  nature  declines  to  be  accountable  for  the  pow- 
ers, or  infirmities,  or  refinement,  or  clumsiness  of  his  vision.  .  .  . 
Just  this  then  is  our  duty  by  our  lives.  Give  them  room  to  grow 
to  truth,  and  they  will  grow  to  symmetry;  give  them  leave  to 
ripen,  and  they  will  richen  too.     Let  each  day's  commonest  act 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  55 

be  an  act  that  has  an  aim  and  does  it,  and  it  shall  make  us  wonder 
to  see  us  dignified  by  that  aim  and  cured  of  all  its  commonness, 
taking  its  place  of  its  own  true  instinct  in  the  true,  fresh,  glowing 
pictures  of  our  life." 

"In  the  great  temple  where  the  singers  of  old  are  sleeping  their 
quiet  sleep,  where  Homer's  gray  tranquillity,  and  Shakespeare's 
still,  calm  forehead,  and  Milton's  peaceful,  sightless  face  lie,  un- 
disturbed, as  if  they  looked  on  inner  sights  and  listened  to  some 
inner  voice,  while  the  noisy,  heedless  world  is  wrangling  and 
chattering  and  fighting  without,  above  each  minstrel's  tomb 
hangs  the  harp  to  which  he  sang,  still  strung  and  tuned  for 
singing.  But  well  may  men  tremble,  as  they  walk  through  the 
temple  and  stand  and  look  and  think  upon  the  dead,  to  take 
down  their  harps  and  draw  presumptuous  hands  across  the 
strings.  Yet  let  us  look  with  indulgence  and  hope  when,  in  the 
strength  of  young  poetry,  some  hand  is  timidly  reached  to  touch 
those  old  chords  and  try  if  perhaps  the  old  music  that  lies  in 
them  may  answer  to  another  than  its  master's  call." 

"  We  must  learn  the  infinite  capacity  of  truth  to  speak  to  every 
human  mind,  and  of  every  human  mind  to  hear,  and  more  or  less 
completely  understand,  the  truth  that  speaks.  It  may  come  like 
a  poor  and  shambling  thing,  and  impart  in  its  stammering  Galilean 
tongue  the  great  message  that  it  has  to  give,  but  all  the  multitude 
will  catch  the  words,  and,  whatever  may  be  their  tribe,  Romans, 
Medes,  Parthians,  and  Jews,  shall  hear  in  their  own  tongue,  like 
that  Whitsunday  congregation,  the  wonderful  works  of  God.  Let 
us  then  reverence  our  neighbor's  way  of  finding  truth.  If  by  his 
life  and  faith  we  can  clearly  see  that  he  is  finding  it  indeed,  let 
us  not  turn  away  because  he  hears  it  in  another  tongue  than  ours. 
The  speaker  is  the  same.  If  he  can  read  in  a  stormy  sky,  or  a 
sunny  landscape,  lessons  for  which  we  must  go  to  books  and  ser- 
mons, so  much  the  better  for  him." 

"  When  we  gain  a  victory  moral  or  mental,  when  we  subdue  a 
passion  or  achieve  a  thought,  let  the  conquest  be  decisive.  Let 
the  question  be  settled,  the  idea  mastered,  the  doubt  decided  for- 
ever. Let  there  be  no  fear  of  future  difficulty.  If  the  serpent 
lie  across  our  path  and  we  must  kill  it  to  pass,  let  the  blow  be 
struck  straight  and  strong ;  let  us  lift  the  body  and  see  that  it  be 
really  dead,  lest  when  we  pass  this  way  again  to-morrow  it  may 
lift  its  foul  head  and  hiss  and  frighten  us  from  the  pathway  out 
among  thorns  and  briers,  wandering  from  our  way,  torn  and  tired 
with  our  struggles,  ashamed  of  the  wretched  shiftlessness  which 
is  only  a  specimen  of  our  moral  and  mental  lives." 


56  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  There  lies  in  earth  a  secret  note  to  which  her  harmony  should 
be  and  was  at  first  attuned,  but  from  which  her  degenerate  discord 
wanders.  Her  slow  ear  has  forgotten  that  old  first  note,  and  she 
chants  her  daily  song  unconscious  of  the  wandering  of  her  voice, 
till,  once  in  an  age,  some  great  soul  comes  and  reaching  forth  a 
master's  finger  touches  life's  keynote,  and  all  earth  trembles  when 
she  hears  the  harmony,  and  knows  at  one  sudden  shock  how  far 
her  mortal  song  has  strayed  from  the  old  angels'  anthem  from 
which  she  learned  it  first." 

"Until  we  have  learned  the  universal  language  of  human  sym- 
pathy, how  can  we  hope  to  speak  so  that  all  may  hear  us  and 
be  drawn  to  us  by  what  they  hear?  While  we  speak  thus,  each  in 
the  selfish  tongue  of  our  own  interest  or  passions,  our  words  will 
come  sealed  to  the  ears  of  our  fellows,  and  all  the  consciousness 
that  we  are  heard  and  understood  by  others,  or  the  sweeter  feel- 
ing that  the  world  is  better  for  our  words,  will  all  be  lost." 

"  The  world  claims  of  us,  as  Nebuchadnezzar  did  of  the  Chal- 
deans, not  only  to  solve,  but  first  of  all  to  discover  her  problems. 
The  man  who  has  learnt  thoroughly  what  it  is  that  is  wonderful 
and  inexplicable,  where  the  hard  questions  lie,  in  the  constitution 
and  habit  of  the  world  and  of  his  fellow-men,  even  if  his  steps 
have  been  very  few  towards  the  explanation  of  those  wonders,  has 
reached  not  a  little  knowledge  of  men  and  things." 

With  these  passages  may  be  connected  another  from  his 
book  The  Influence  of  Jesus,  where,  after  many  years,  he  com- 
mented on  the  way  by  which  he  had  been  led: 

' '  Who  of  us  has  not  bowed  his  will  to  some  supreme  law,  ac- 
cepted some  obedience  as  the  atmosphere  in  which  his  life  must 
live,  and  found  at  once  that  his  mind's  darkness  turned  to  light 
and  that  many  a  hard  question  found  its  answer?  Who  has  not 
sometimes  seemed  to  see  it  all  as  clear  as  daylight,  that  not  by 
the  sharpening  of  the  intellect  to  supernatural  acuteness,  but  by 
the  submission  of  the  nature  to  its  true  authority,  man  was  at  last 
to  conquer  truth ;  that  not  by  agonizing  struggles  over  contradic- 
tory evidence,  but  by  the  harmony  with  Him  in  whom  the  an- 
swers to  all  our  doubts  are  folded,  a  harmony  with  Him  brought 
by  obedience  to  Him,  our  doubts  must  be  enlightened  ? " 

The  summer  of  1857  was  passed  with  his  family  in  the  home 
on  Chauncy  Street,  Boston, — the  first  home-coming  after  a 
long  absence.  Upon  his  arrival,  he  took  the  long-deferred  step, 
in  the  language  of  the  Church,  of  "ratifying  his  baptismal  vows." 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  57 

He  was  presented  by  Rev.  Edward  L.  Drown,  and  confirmed  by 
the  Rt.  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn  at  St.  Mary's  Church,  Dorchester, 
Sunday,  July  12,  1857.  Among  his  mother's  papers  found  after 
her  death  was  this  memorandum: 

"Sunday,  July  12,  1857. 

"This  has  been  a  most  happy  day  in  which  I  have  witnessed 
the  confirmation  of  my  dear  son  Phillips,  aged  twenty-one,  at 
Dorchester. 

"  I  will  thank  God  forever  that  He  has  answered  my  lifelong 
prayers  in  making  him  a  Christian  and  His  servant  in  the  ministry. 

"  Oh,  how  happy  this  makes  me!  May  God  continue  to  bless 
my  dear  boy  and  make  him  a  burning  and  shining  light  in  His 
service." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

1857-1858. 

SECOND   YEAR    AT   THE   ALEXANDRIA    SEMINARY.       HOME 
LETTERS.       EXTRACTS    FROM    NOTE-BOOKS. 

The  summer  of  1857  was  spent  at  home.  It  was  not  an  idle 
one,  for  work  of  some  kind  was  the  law  of  the  family.  It  was 
the  custom  of  the  father  when  he  came  home  in  the  evening  to 
ask  the  boys  what  they  had  been  doing  through  the  day.  Phil- 
lips had  known  what  it  was  to  have  days  when  he  had  nothing  to 
report;  when,  as  he  confesses,  he  sought  to  keep  out  of  his  father's 
way.  Now  that  the  long  study  for  its  own  sake  and  for  an  ulte- 
rior end  had  been  established,  there  was  no  possibilty  of  idleness. 
He  began  another  note-book  with  extracts  from  his  summer 
reading.  Much  of  his  time  was  spent  in  the  Boston  Public  Li- 
brary, then  situated  on  Boylston  Street.  He  was  led  by  some 
instinct  to  the  works  of  Lord  Bacon,  cultivating  his  Latin  at  the 
same  time  by  translations  from  the  Novum  Organum,  the  Nova 
Atlantis,  and  the  De  Sapientia  Veterum.  The  latter  work  en- 
couraged what  was  characteristic  of  Brooks's  later  work  in 
preaching, — a  tendency  to  go  beneath  the  form,  in  order  to  dis- 
cover some  deeper  meaning  some  analogies  in  things  unlike.  He 
kept  up  his  German  by  reading  Schiller,  his  French  by  Mon- 
taigne's essays,  whose  apology  for  Raimond  de  Sabonde  left  an 
enduring  impression.  He  was  reading  Browning  and  Matthew 
Arnold  for  the  first  time,  and  was  browsing  over  Ruskin,  in  one  of 
whose  sentences  he  found  food  for  thought:  "Landscape  seems 
hardly  to  have  exercised  any  strong  influence,  as  such,  on  any 
pagan  nation  or  artist." 

When  he  left  Virginia  for  his  holiday  he  had  some  vague  hope 
of  going  elsewhere  to  complete  his  theological  course,  but  the 
plan  was  abandoned  and  in  the  fall  he  returned  to  Alexandria. 

58 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  59 

He  had  in  reality  struck  root  there,  and  had  formed  friendships 
too  valuable  to  be  sacrificed.  /The  year  1857-58  is  remembered 
as  a  year  of  financial  depression,  causing  the  most  severe  trial  to 
business  interests  the  country  had  ever  known.  Following  the 
financial  distress  came  a  religious  awakening- which  for  depth 
and  extent  and  abiding  results  can  only  be  compared  with 
the  "Great  awakening"  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  polit- 
ical situation  was  full  of  excitement,  indicating  that  the  trend 
of  sentiment  in  the  country  was  against  Buchanan's  adminis- 
tration. The  question  was  before  Congress  whether  Kansas 
should  be  admitted  into  the  Union  under  the  Lecompton  Con- 
stitution, so  called  from  the  place  where  it  had  been  drawn  up, — 
a  constitution  which  recognized  slavery,  and  had  never  been  sub- 
mitted to  the  people  of  the  Territory.  It  was  a  great  event 
when  Mr.  Douglas,  the  rival  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  committed  himself 
by  a  speech  against  the  proposal  to  adopt  this  constitution.  To 
this  speech  Brooks  alluded  in  one  of  his  home  letters,  dated 
March  23,  1858: 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  Washington,  where  I  spent  the 
greater  part  of  last  night,  from  seven  till  eleven,  standing  on  a 
very  little  bench  in  a  very  large  crowd,  listening  to  Douglas's  anti- 
Lecompton  speech  in  the  Senate.  You  have  seen  it.  I  suppose, 
in  the  papers.  It  was  n't  a  very  great  speech,  but  as  I  had  never 
heard  him  I  was  glad  to  have  the  opportunity.  I  never  saw  such 
a  crowd  before.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  get  in,  and  once  in, 
it  was  utterly  out  of  the  question  to  get  out  again.  Toombs 
replied  in  a  fiery  speech. 

"  Mr.  Everett  was  lecturing  in  Alexandria  last  week,  and  every- 
body is  admiring  him.     I  did  not  hear  him." 

The  home  letters  riveted  more  closely  the  family  ties.  Both 
father  and  mother  follow  the  absent  son  with  parental  anxiety 
and  sense  of  responsibility.  It  was  taken  for  granted  that  he 
had  not  outgrown  the  need  of  a  father's  care  or  the  saving  influ- 
ence of  a  mother's  love.  He  was  still  to  be  watched  over,  and 
warned  and  stimulated  to  greater  exertions.  These  letters  de- 
serve to  be  mentioned  because  they  constitute  formative  influ- 
ences more  potent  than  any  other.  Thus  his  father  thought  it 
necessary  to  write : 

"  Remember  what  I  have  often  told  you  about  the  seminary, 


6o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

that  after  all,  dull  as  it  is,  the  most  depends  on  your  individual 
exertions,  and  these  I  know  never  will  be  allowed  to  rust  with 
you.  I  wish  other  things  were  equal,  and  that  you  found  it  more 
pleasant  and  congenial. 

".  .  .  .  Do  you  go  to  Washington  much?  a  rowdy  place  I 
should  not  advise  visiting  much!  What  a  disgraceful  drunken 
scrape  that  was  last  week  among  them!  " 

The  new  Atlantic  Monthly  had  not  been  accorded  a  kindly  re- 
ception at  the  seminary.  Referring  to  this  and  to  his  son's  allu- 
sions to  politics,  the  father  writes : 

"Boston,  December  21,  1857. 

"...  I  note  your  remarks  on  politics,  etc.  All  very  well  to 
keep  posted  on  such  matters,  but  I  want  you  to  be  aware  (for  I 
am  afraid  you  are  not)  of  the  importance  of  acting  discreetly  on 
all  matters  between  the  North  and  the  South,  remembering  it 
is  a  delicate  subject  on  both  sides.  I  do  not  think  it  was  wise 
or  discreet  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  to  publish  such  an  article  in 
such  a  magazine,  but  they  must  abide  by  the  result.  Standing 
here  on  Northern  soil,  it  is  all  well  enough,  but  I  can  see  how 
the  South  would  view  it  and  I  wish  to  impress  it  earnestly  upon 
you  not  to  enter  into  the  discussion  there.  It  can  do  you  no 
good,  and  may  do  you  much  harm,  if  not  positive  evil.  You 
know  I  have  expressed  this  before,  but  the  tenor  of  your 
letter  impresses  me  with  the  idea  that  you  are  too  regardless 
of  consequences.  ...  It  was  a  very  small  and  despicable  act  to 
remove  the  magazine  from  the  room,  and  shows  the  weakness  of 
their  cause;  but  after  the  fact  was  well  known,  there  I  should 
leave  it  in  a  Christian  spirit,  and  I  believe  it  would  do  them  more 
harm  than  good.  /  shall  depend  on  your  acting  discreetly  and  cau- 
tiously in  the  matter.*' 

"October  20,  1857. 

"  My  Dear  Philly, — I  am  thinking  of  you  continually  and  we 
cannot  be  done  missing  you,  and  it  is  so  cheering  to  get  news  of 
you.  I  wish  I  could  look  into  your  room  and  see  if  you  look  com- 
fortable, and  how  you  have  arranged  your  clothes.  ...  I  hope 
you  will  find  some  pleasant  friends  among  the  new  students. 
Also  I  hope  you  will  improve  this  pleasant  weather  to  walk  a 
good  deal  and  enjoy  this  beautiful  weather.  .  .  .  Write  again 
soon,  and  tell  us  all  about  yourself,  and  what  you  are  doing  this 
year  in  your  studies.  You  don't  know  how  much  we  think  and 
talk  of  you,  and  desire  your  well-doing  in  every  respect  Keep 
very  near  to  your  Saviour,  dear  Philly,  and  remember  the  sacred 
vows  that  are  upon  you,  and  you  will  surely  prosper.     Good- 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  61 

night,  my  dear  Philly,  and  pleasant  dreams.     Whether  waking 
or  sleeping,  never  forget 

"  Your  ever  loving  Mother." 

A  great  tide  of  love  was  sweeping  through  the  mother's  soul  as 
she  wrote  the  letter  following : 

Boston,  December  19,  Saturday  evening. 

"My  very  dear  Child, — I  have  stolen  away  from  the  parlor, 
and  the  girls  and  the  boys,  and  the  closing  Saturday  night  cares, 
into  the  nursery  to  write  to  you;  to  send  you  my  wishes  for  a 
happy  Christmas,  and  the  enclosed  ten  dollars  for  a  Christmas 
present,  and  I  sincerely  wish  it  was  in  my  power  to  double  it. 
You  must  take  it  as  a  gift  of  love  from  your  mother,  who  loves 
you  ten  thousand  times  more  than  she  can  ever  tell  you,  or  than 
you  can  ever  know.  As  Christmas  Day  returns  again  I  shall 
think  very  much  of  the  pleasant  one  I  spent  with  you  last  year, 
and  especially  of  the  happiness  and  gratitude  I  felt  on  first  taking 
communion  with  you.  Oh,  it  was  a  happy  day,  and  my  heart 
was  full  of  gratitude  that  I  had  lived  to  see  my  child  confess  his 
Saviour  before  men.  God  grant  that  as  long  as  life  shall  last,  he 
may  be  His  faithful  disciple  and  devoted  servant.  And  although 
we  shall  not  be  with  you  this  year,  Philly,  I  want  you  to  enjoy 
the  day,  and  think  of  us,  and  therefore  I  want  you  for  my  sake 
to  go  into  Washington  to  church,  and,  oh,  when  you  take  com- 
munion, remember  your  mother.  And  after  church  I  want  you 
to  go  to  Willard's  or  somewhere,  and  get  a  good  Christmas  dinner, 
with  some  of  my  present,  and  then  when  the  children  are  enjoying 
their  roast  turkey,  they  can  think  that  Philly  has  some  too.  Now, 
Philly,  won't  you  do  all  this  for  me? — and  I  shall  think  of  you 
on  that  day  as  doing  it  and  enjoying  a  part  of  my  present.  We 
shall  think  and  talk  much  of  you  on  that  day,  and  miss  you,  and 
long  to  have  you  with  us,  and  I  know  you  will  think  of  us. 
Depend  on  it  I  think  a  great  deal  about  you.  .  .  .  Philly,  I 
will  say  how  much  you  have  improved  in  your  character  and  in 
your  letters  the  last  year.  We  both  notice  it,  and  I  believe  you 
will  be  a  blessing  and  honor  to  us  in  our  future  years." 

To  this  and  other  letters  Phillips  wrote  in  reply,  deeply  moved, 
and  for  once  yielding  his  almost  invincible  reserve.  He  explains 
why  it  is  he  has  not  yet  spoken  the  words  his  parents  must  have 
long  yearned  to  hear,  but  he  can  write  when  he  cannot  speak. 
His  explanation  reveals  a  feature  of  his  character  which  to  the 
last  baffled  his  friends : 


62  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"Christmas  Eve,  1857. 

"  Dear  Father  (and  Mother,  too,  for  the  mail  to-night  has 
brought  so  much  to  thank  you  both  for  that  this  note  must  be  a 
joint  affair), — First  there  is  the  composite  letter  of  Saturday, 
enclosing  your  Christmas  presents,  which  the  post  office  seems  to 
have  delayed  so  as  to  reach  me  just  in  time.  I  shan't  begin  to 
thank  you  both  for  your  kindness,  for  in  my  utter  inability  to  say 
how  much  I  feel  it  I  should  never  know  where  to  stop.  It  is 
only  a  piece  of  the  long  series  of  goodness  that  I  have  been 
grateful  or  ungrateful  for,  for  the  last  twenty-two  years.  If  I 
ever  can  do  anything  to  give  .pleasure  or  credit  to  you,  a  big  part 
of  the  gratification  to  myself  will  be  in  feeling  that  you  are  grati- 
fied, and  are  so  adding  to  your  other  kindnesses  that  of  taking 
my  own  efforts  to  help  and  improve  myself  as  payment  for  your 
long  labor  to  help  and  improve  me.  You  may  have  thought  it 
a  little  strange  now  and  then  that  I  have  n't  said  this  by  word  of 
mouth,  but  the  truth  is  I  can  write  what  I  feel  deeply  much 
easier  and  better  than  I  can  say  it;  but  the  feeling,  I  at  least 
know,  is  none  the  less  deep  for  that.  Let  this  explain  a  great 
deal  of  what  you  may  have  fancied  is  coldness  in  all  my  life,  and 
more  particularly  in  my  new  professon.  In  truth  I  do  thank 
you  sincerely  for  your  holiday  remembrances,  and  they  will  cer- 
tainly make  Christmas  a  great  deal  merrier  to  me." 

This  letter  has  been  indorsed  in  his  mother's  handwriting, 
" A  dear  letter.     Mother."     She  replies  to  it: 

"January  n,  1858. 

"  My  dear  Philly, — I  thank  you  for  that  letter;  it  is  a  treas- 
ure to  me,  it  is  so  full  of  love  and  kindness.  It  tells  us  all  we 
want  to  know,  that  you  realize  your  parents'  deep  interest  in  you, 
and  that  you  promise  us  the  richest  reward  you  can  give  us, — 
that  of  bringing  us  honor  in  after  life.  And  also  you  have  con- 
vinced us  that  you  have  a  warm  and  kind  heart,  and  that  your 
heart  is  in  your  profession.  Not  that  I  have  ever  doubted  it,  for 
I  have  always  felt  that  you  are  too  sincere  and  true-hearted  to 
dare  undertake  so  holy  a  calling  except  with  your  whole  heart; 
but  I  've  sometimes  wished  you  would  make  it  doubly  sure  to  me 
by  assuring  me  of  it  yourself,  and  I  've  felt  you  owed  it  to  your- 
self to  do  so.  But,  my  dear  Philly,  this  letter  satisfies  me 
entirely  on  that  point,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  the  delight  it  gives 
us.     Father  almost  shed  tears  as  he  read  it." 


From  this  picture  of  family  life,  we  turn  to  Brooks's  intel- 
lectual activity  during  his  second  year  at  the  Virginia  Seminary. 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  63 

Out  of  all  the  years  of  his  life  it  stands  forth  supreme;  in  no 
other  year  did  he  receive  so  much  from  books,  from  real 
life,  or  from  himself;  in  no  other  year  did  he  leave  a  fuller  record 
of  his  genius;  every  germ  and  principle  of  the  later  expansion 
is  here. 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  own  convictions  of  truth,  or 
however  widely  he  may  have  been  diverging  from  the  teaching 
of  his  instructors,  he  did  the  required  work  of  the  classroom  in 
a  conscientious  spirit.  He  read  selected  parts  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment in  Hebrew,  though  never  with  any  enthusiasm  for  the 
language,  and  the  Greek  New  Testament;  he  studied  Church 
history  and  systematic  theology.  This  was  the  usual  course  of 
study.  But  at  the  same  time  he  was  living  in  a  world  of  his  own, 
where  his  mind  was  ranging  far  and  wide  beyond  the  imagina- 
tion of  his  associates.  The  routine  work  calls  for  no  comment 
beyond  the  remark  that  it  kept  him  in  touch  with  received 
opinions,  and  enabled  him  to  measure  his  own  divergence. 
But  even  here  he  was  engaged  in  the  task  of  going  beneath 
the  formulas  to   the    original    purpose  which    inspired    them. 

The  first  impression  one  gets  from  his  note-books  is  the  wide 
extent  of  his  reading.  The  list  of  books  he  read  or  studied,  or 
to  some  extent  became  acquainted  with,  is  a  long  one.  Out  of 
this  large  list  from  which  he  makes  quotations,  there  are  a  few 
that  stand  forth  with  prominence.  He  went  by  a  sure  instinct 
to  the  creative  minds  of  the  ancient  Church,  and  with  them  he 
dwelt  till  he  had  appropriated  their  distinctive  quality.  He 
read  the  Greek  and  Latin  fathers,  taking  delight  in  his  capacity  to 
read  them  in  their  own  tongues,  but  also  forced  to  do  so — for 
translations  were  not  availiable. 

His  note-books  reveal  the  traces  of  glowing  enthusiasm  under 
the  contact  of  new  ideas.  Whatever  impressed  his  mind  seems 
to  have  stirred  his  whole  being.  His  chief  outlet  for  an  aroused, 
excited  soul  was  at  this  time  the  sonnet,  for  which  he  shows  a 
decided  predilection,  whenever  he  would  express  the  grateful 
emotion  due  to  any  author  who  had  moved  him  to  the  depths. 
He  wrote  a  series  of  sonnets  after  reading  the  tragedies  of 
-^Eschylus  and  Sophocles. 

Among  the  ancient  authors  to  whom  he  was  deeply  indebted 
were  Philo  and  Origen,  Tertullian,  Jerome,  and  Augustine ;  among 


64  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

moderns,  Lord  Bacon,  Goethe,  Coleridge.  The  list  is  an  unusual 
one  for  a  young  man  to  have  selected  with  no  guidance  but  his 
own  will.  When  these  names  are  studied  with  reference  to  the 
power  they  exercised  over  their  own  world,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  could  not  have  gone  more  widely  in  the  search  for  what 
would  minister  to  his  own  life,  and  create  enthusisam  for  those 
universal  convictions  which  have  inspired  the  Church  in  the  past 
to  its  greatest  victories,  or  which  underlie  modern  progress. 

From  Philo,  over  whose  De  Mundi  Opificio  he  browsed 
earnestly,  was  gained  the  idea  that  deep  meanings  were  buried 
in  the  old  Hebrew  laws.  Through  the  study  of  Origen  he  was 
confirmed  in  this  conviction,  and  learned  the  quest  for  himself 
of  some  inward  sense,  imbedded  in  the  page  of  Scripture.  As 
he  mused  over  Jerome  he  felt  the  strange  power  beneath  the 
ancient  creeds.  With  Tertullian,  he  could  in  spirit  emerge  from 
the  old  Roman  paganism,  with  which  he  was  not  without  sym- 
pathy, into  the  Christian  atmosphere;  and  even  Tertullian's 
inward  tumult  and  contradiction,  even  his  passionate  stormy 
nature,  appealed  to  something  kindred  in  his  own  soul.  For 
Tertullian  he  always  retained  a  certain  personal  affection. 
Studies  like  these  put  him  in  accord  with  the  most  characteristic 
purpose  of  historic  Christianity.  He  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  engaged  in  denning  his  own  belief,  but  rather  in  finding  out 
what  others  believed  who  had  exercised  the  greatest  power  in 
the  Church,  or  contributed  most  to  the  development  of  its 
doctrines  or  its  life.  Truths  which  had  helped  the  race  he 
appropriated  as  his  own.  In  proportion  as  he  did  so  he  was 
impersonating  in  himself  the  historic  Christian  ideal,  which 
had  subdued  the  world  to  Christ. 

He  was  not  attracted  by  speculative  or  metaphysical  studies. 
Only  as  they  took  shape  in  concrete  convictions  with  a  practical 
relation  to  life  could  he  give  to  speculative  truths  a  kindly  recep- 
tion. It  was  true  of  him,  as  it  was  of  Goethe,  that  a  study  of 
speculative  philosophy  would  have  turned  him  in  a  direction 
alien  to  his  genius  and  impeded  his  development.  It  should  be 
remarked  that  he  gave  no  attention  to  Aristotle.  Plato  he 
read  and  pored  over.  What  chiefly  attracted  him  in  Plato  was 
the  portrait  of  Socrates,  and  the  Phasdo  was  his  favorite  dialogue. 

There  was  one  writer,  however,  Lord  Bacon,  included  among 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  65 

philosophers,  who  exercised  a  lasting  influence  upon  Phillips 
Brooks.  His  note-books  contain  more  quotations  from  Bacon 
than  from  any  other  one  author.  One  reason  for  the  attraction 
is  that  which  explains  also  his  turning  to  the  masters  of  the 
ancient  Church — the  sense  of  a  power  exercised  in  extraordinary 
degree  at  some  turning  point  in  history.  At  that  greatest  hour 
in  England's  career,  when  after  the  destruction  of  the  Spanish 
Armada  she  came  to  the  consciousness  of  her  destiny  in  free- 
dom and  national  independence,  Bacon  had  arisen  in  the  fulness 
of  the  rare  opportunity,  to  interpret  the  world  he  lived  in. 
Brooks  seems  to  have  revelled  in  Bacon's  writings.  The  Novum 
Organum  became  his  text-book.  Out  of  the  many  quotations, 
some  translated,  others  cited  in  the  original,  a  few  deserve  to  be 
given,  for  they  are  so  many  mottoes,  containing  in  summary 
the  principles  of  his  life  work  as  a  teacher  and  theologian. 

"Interpretation  is  the  natural  and  genuine  work  of  the  mind 
after  obstacles  are  removed." 

"For  that  is  true  philosophy  which  renders  most  faithfully  the 
voices  of  the  world,  and  is  written,  as  it  were,  at  the  world's 
dictation;  and  is  nothing  else  but  its  image  and  reflection,  and 
adds  nothing  of  its  own,  but  only  repeats  and  resounds."  (De 
Sapientia  Veterum.) 

"For  there  is  in  man  a  certain  ambition  of  the  intellect,  no  less 
than  of  the  will,  especially  in  high  and  lofty  minds."  (Nov.  Org., 
1.,  65.) 

"When  the  human  mind  has  once  despaired  of  finding  truth, 
all  things  become  altogether  weak."     (Nov.  Org.,  i.,  67  ) 

"There  are  realities  for  which  there  is  no  name;  and  there  are 
names  with  no  corresponding  realities."     (Nov.  Org  ,  i  ,  6.) 

Brooks  never  paid  much  attention  to  the  natural  sciences. 
But  from  Bacon  he  gained  the  principle  which  put  him  in  harmony 
with  the  scientific  attitude,  and  he  also  learned  to  believe  in  the 
sacredness  of  secular  pursuits,  trade  and  commerce,  as  agencies 
for  bringing  in  the  Kingdom  of  God.  He  quotes  from  the  Nova 
Atlantis  an  impressive  passage,  where  Bacon  claims  that  com- 
merce has  been  instituted  not  for  gold  or  silver  or  gems  or  any 
other  such  things,  but  primarily  for  the  creature  of  God,  that 
is  for  light,  in  whatever  region  it  may  germinate.  Hence  the 
environment  of  man  in  this  natural  world  grew  rich  to  his 
imagination,  teeming  as  it  was  with  untold  possibilities. 


66  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"We  may  therefore  well  hope  that  many  excellent  and  useful 
matters  are  yet  treasured  up  in  the  bosom  of  nature,  bearing  no 
relation  or  analogy  to  our  actual  discoveries,  but  out  of  the 
common  track  of  our  imagination  and  still  undiscovered;  and 
which  will  doubtless  be  brought  to  light  in  the  course  and  lapse 
of  years,  as  the  others  have  been  before  them."  (Nov.  Org.,  i., 
109.) 

Among  modern  writers  he  turned  to  Coleridge,  the  "true  sov- 
ereign of  English  thought,"  as  he  has  been  called,  whose  gift  it 
was  to  show  "how  one  may  enter  into  the  spirit  of  a  living  or 
departed  author  without  assuming  to  be  his  judge."  In  this 
capacity,  Brooks  excelled.  At  a  later  time  he  complained  of 
much  current  American  criticism,  that  it  failed  of  its  true  pur- 
pose, because  it  too  often  mounted  the  throne  of  judgment,  in- 
stead of  sitting  at  the  feet  of  an  author  to  learn.  Coleridge's 
influence  combined  easily  with  that  of  Philo,  and  Origen,  in 
emphasizing  the  sacramental  view  of  life,  the  spiritualization  of 
the  whole  universe, — "that  coherent  conception  of  human  life 
and  human  culture  which  recognizes  the  Divine  Spirit  as  present 
and  operative  in  all  the  higher  strivings  of  man." 

There  are  verses  in  his  note-book  at  this  time  which  disclose, 
however  he  may  have  come  by  it,  a  decided  Neo-Platonic  ten- 
dency, where  he  speaks  of  the  thoughts  now  springing  up  so 
abundantly  in  his  mind,  as  if  they  were  angelic  intelligences  de- 
scending from  God,  with  whom  they  had  pre-existed  and  held 
communion,  coming  down  into  the  soul  with  God's  blessing  upon 
them.  These  thoughts  he  personifies,  as  carrying  memories  of 
the  blessed  life,  and  of  the  heavenly  hymn;  which,  while  they 
come  to  men  in  blessing,  are  themselves  yearning  for  the  joys 
they  have  left  behind  them,  and  so  tempt  men  Godward,  as  they 
return  to  the  source  whence  they  came. 

Taking  the  sonnets  of  Brooks  as  indications  of  his  grateful 
recognition  to  those  who  contributed  to  his  growth,  mention 
should  be  made  of  Dr.  Bushnell,  to  whom  a  sonnet  is  also  ad- 
dressed. No  books  in  Brooks's  library  show  signs  of  harder 
usage  than  Bushnell's  Sermons  for  the  New  Life,  and  Maurice's 
Theological  Essays.  In  the  decade  of  the  fifties  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, no  writers  were  exerting  a  stronger  or  more  beneficent  effect 
upon  theology. 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  67 

From  this  sketch,  it  may  be  evident  with  what  discernment 
and  assimilative  force  he  went  through  the  large  amount  of  read- 
ing to  which  his  note-books  bear  witness.  Greek  and  Latin 
classics,  Greek  and  Latin  fathers,  the  best  English  literature, 
especially  the  English  poets,  the  classics  in  English  theology, 
the  most  influential  of  the  then  modern  writers,  all  were  put  under 
contribution  for  his  enrichment.  It  is  hard  to  say  whether  he 
drew  most  deeply  from  contemporary  thinkers,  Carlyle,  Tenny- 
son, Browning,  or  Ruskin,  or  from  the  great  masters  of  an- 
tiquity.    To  him  they  stood  apparently  on  a  common  level. 

But  there  are  things  in  these  note-books — his  own  thoughts — 
not  to  be  traced  to  any  special  influence.  There  are  hundreds  of 
passages  where  an  idea  is  carefully  elaborated,  which  bespeak  the 
native  working  of  his  own  spirit.  It  is  apparent  that  one  object 
he  had  in  view  was  cultivation  in  the  art  of  expression.  Like  a 
true  poet,  no  sooner  did  he  conceive  the  idea  than  he  set  himself, 
by  an  inward  necessity,  to  giving  it  perfect  embodiment  in  words. 
It  was  all  genuine  and  spontaneous;  he  valued  his  thoughts  for 
their  own  sake,  but  also  for  the  artistic  form  with  which  he  in- 
vested them.  It  seems  to  have  been  his  plan  to  work  out  every 
day  some  one  or  more  ideas.  At  times  it  looks  as  if  he  were 
preaching  to  himself,  and  at  other  times  to  an  invisible  audience, 
to  whom  he  would  commend  the  truth  by  artistic  impassioned 
appeal. 

He  shows  also  a  tendency  to  personify  nature,  to  think  of  the 
earth  as  alive,  conscious,  and  sympathetic  with  man,' and  watch- 
ing the  career  of  the  humanity  whom  it  carries.  Its  task  is  a 
heavy  one  and  he  sympathizes  with  its  faithfulness,  its  weariness, 
its  sad  monotony.  He  personifies  time — a  living  entity  growing 
old  and  weighted  with  infirmity,  the  conviction  of  sin  and 
failure.  His  study  of  Greek  literature  gave  him  insight  into  the 
inner  meaning  of  Greek  mythology,  till  it  seemed  like  a  vehicle 
for  his  own  emotion.  He  entered  into  the  religion  of  nature, 
whose  essence  is  reverence  for  the  mystery  of  things.  Each  new 
day  should  be  a  recurring  miracle ;  each  sunrise  as  fresh  and  novel 
a  scene  as  when  viewed  by  the  first  man  for  the  first  time.  Each 
morning  God  is  calling  upon  the  slumbering  earth  to  rise  and  do 
his  will.  "Morning  still  chases  morning,  and  evening  flies  from 
evening  round  the  world."     "Each  new  science  is  only  a  new 


68  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

chord  in  the  harp  of  earth's  harmony,  each  new  thought  only  a 
new  strain  in  earth's  everlasting  song  of  praise."  "Prayer  and 
prophecy  are  the  uplifted  hand  of  earth  yearning  for  the  heaven 
that  is  to  come." 

"Every  sunrise  and  sunset  gives  us  a  new  insight  into  the  old 
belief  that  the  East  and  the  West  were  blessed  lands,  with 
golden  rivers  and  bright  hills  and  warm  clear  skies  and  everlast- 
ing verdure.  How  our  souls  go  out  into  those  magic  lands,  and 
meet  there  the  old  Greek  souls  who  wandered  there  for  beauty, 
led  by  a  depth  of  feeling  for  its  worth  such  as  no  souls  but  Greek 
have  ever  known." 

"Some  morning  comes  to  us  with  a  sense  of  the  marvellous 
beauty  of  our  earth,  such  as  morning  after  morning  all  the  days 
of  our  life  have  failed  to  give  us.  .  .  .  Sometimes  a  thought  seems 
to  have  hoarded  all  the  wealth  and  worth  of  all  our  thoughts  since 
thinking  first  began." 

"The  still  blue  sky  that  has  looked  in  sorrow  and  in  care  these 
six  thousand  years  on  sinning,  anxious  earth." 

"Who  that  did  not  know  by  long  experience  the  certainty  and 
richness  of  God's  daily  power  and  love  could  have  imagined  that 
the  faint  gray  hue  that  we  saw  this  morning  dimly  dividing  be- 
tween the  blackness  of  heaven  and  the  blackness  of  earth  could 
have  widened  and  deepened  and  brightened  in  these  few  short 
hours  into  perfect  day,  opening  all  the  great  depths  of  heaven's 
room,  painting  all  the  landscape  of  earth's  loveliness,  warming 
and  waking  and  cheering  the  cold,  dead,  dreary  hearts  of  men?" 

"Nature  is  man's  best  teacher  of  modesty  and  of  humble  doubt, 
as  well  as  trust  of  his  powers.  ...  So  long  as  each  day's  wisdom 
and  study  is  perplexed  and  put  to  shame  by  each  night's  sleep 
and  dreams,  let  us  cease  to  wonder  at  what  we  know,  let  us  stand 
in  silent  awe  at  what  we  feel,  at  what  we  are,  and  what  we  dimly 
discern  around  us." 

"The  hymn  to  Demeter  has  a  noble  groundwork  of  a  faith.  .  . 
How  the  old  story  must  have  twined  around  the  city's  life,  while 
processions,  and  ceremonies,  and  creeds  thenceforth  made  the 
old  myth  forever  new.  .  .  .  Truly  humanity  yearns  for  the  divine  ; 
is  drawn  by  its  beauty  to  the  beautiful;  catches,  while  it  dreams 
of  the  grand,  holy,  righteous  powers  of  nature,  something  of  their 
grandeur  and  holiness  and  truth." 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  69 

"  Truly  there  was  a  clearness  and  a  power  in  those  old  eyes  and 
ears  that  have  died  out  of  ours.  We  hear  no  voices  on  the  sum- 
mer wind;  no  merry  faces  laugh  up  their  beauty  tones  from  the 
sunny  sea;  no  Dryads  flit  away  before  us  down  their  forest  paths. 
To  us  the  black  cloud  is  a  black  cloud,  and  not  a  power;  the  clear 
sky  is  only  a  clear  sky,  and  not  a  smile ;  our  sun  is  not  a  god,  our 
stars  no  happy  choirs  of  singing  graces,  making  night  day  with 
the  sweet  chorus  of  their  perfect  loveliness.  We  have  learnt  a 
moral  beauty  of  ethics  and  of  faith,  found  cheer  in  sorrow  and 
gladness  in  despair,  but  we  have  lost  the  daily  beauty  that  fills 
earth  now  just  as  it  filled  it  then." 

But  nature  was  more  beautiful  for  the  human  thoughts  it  sug- 
gested than  for  itself  alone.  He  will  not  admit  that  man  is  a  blot 
on  the  landscape,  or  that  the  deeds  of  man  disfigure  nature. 

"  Every  earthly  scene  is  imperfect,  as  Eden  was,  without  man's 
presence.  Hills  and  trees  and  clouds,  waves  on  the  seashore, 
willows  by  the  river's  side,  fields  with  their  broad  green  beauty 
stretching  out  of  sight,  lack  with  all  their  loveliness  one  element 
of  poetry,  gain  it  only  when  a  human  home  stands  in  their  midst, 
and  the  signs  of  human  work  are  seen  among  them.  Man  may 
mar  the  beauty  of  their  first  creation,  spoil  or  soil  them  with  his 
clumsy  efforts  to  turn  them  into  use,  or  even  in  mere  human 
wantonness  take  pleasure  in  turning  the  usefulness  that  God  has 
given  them  into  uselessness;  but,  in  spite  of  all  this,  earth  gains 
more  from  human  life  than  she  suffers  from  human  mischief.  It 
gives  a  point  and  purpose  to  her  life,  gives  her  that  without  which 
all  life  is  death." 

Many  other  passages  might  be  quoted  to  illustrate  his  discern- 
ment of  analogy  between  the  life  of  the  spirit  in  man  and  the 
phenomena  of  the  external  world.  He  was  impressed  by  Tertul- 
lian's  argument  connecting  the  resurrection  of  the  body  with 
the  process  of  nature:  "The  whole,  therefore,  of  this  revolving 
order  of  things  bears  witness  to  the  resurrection  of  the  dead." 
(De  Res.  xii). 

The  true  interpretation  of  nature  sanctions  the  moral  ideal; 
the  natural  order  is  an  illustration  of  moral  duties. 

"  We  believe  in  the  same  power  of  nature  to  join  a  broken  life 
as  to  unite  the  pieces  of  a  broken  bone.  Error,  ignorance,  care, 
pride,  or  prejudice  has  struck  our  life  and  it  has  yielded  to  the 
shock,  but  bring  the  jagged  ends  togethei  and  leave  them  to  the 
quiet  influence  of  time,  and  nature's  moral  laws  will  do  their 


yo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

silent  work,  and  our  life  rise  up  to  do  its  part  again  among  the 
busy  lives  of  men." 

"  While  this  morning  sunrise  is  rosy  with  the  memory  of  last 
night's  sunset,  while  noon  looks  longingly  down  the  eastern  sky 
that  it  has  travelled,  and  onward  to  the  night  to  which  it  hastens, 
while  month  links  in  with  month,  and  season  works  with  season, 
and  year  joins  hand  with  year  in  the  long  labor  of  the  world's 
hard  life,  there  is  a  lesson  for  us  all  to  learn  of  the  unity  and  har- 
mony of  our  existence.  Let  us  take  the  lesson,  and,  with  it  in 
our  hearts,  go  out  to  be  more  tolerant,  more  kindly  and  more 
true  in  all  the  social  strivings  of  our  fellow-men.  Let  us  carry 
it  back  with  us  to  history,  and  forward  with  us  in  our  dreamings 
of  the  years  to  come." 

"  If  nature  is  twenty  years  building  our  bodies,  let  us  grudge  no 
needful  time  to  build  our  minds.  If  she  is  content  to  spend  the 
slow  months  of  a  long  sunny  spring  and  summer  in  painting  the 
flower's  petal  and  an  insect's  wing,  which  the  quick  decay  of 
autumn  is  to  make  as  if  it  had  not  been,  let  us  shrink  from  no 
length  of  labor,  or  minuteness  of  finish,  or  conscientious  thorough- 
ness of  every  part  of  every  work  that  is  entrusted  to  our  hands." 

In  these  earlier  years  the  intellect  holds  the  ascendency,  for  a 
work  was  to  be  done  by  the  critical  function  in  order  to  adjust 
the  individual  reason  with  the  reason  of  humanity.  This  task, 
which  confronted  him  in  college,  still  occupies  the  foremost  place 
in  his  consciousness.  He  yearns  for  "more  capacity  to  learn  of 
all  that  has  truth  to  teach." 

"  We  may  judge  of  thoughts  as  of  other  guests.  If  they  come 
frankly  up  and  strike  boldly  at  our  doors,  and  bid  us  admit  them 
and  welcome  them  for  the  message  that  they  bring,  ready  to 
speak  freely  with  us,  ready  to  be  questioned,  ready  to  claim  and 
prove  kindred  to  other  thoughts  which  we  have  taken  to  our 
hearts  in  other  days,  then  we  may  take  them  by  the  hand  and 
lead  them  in  and  grow  stronger  for  their  presence." 

"  Our  gradual  learning  of  our  powers  is  a  blessed  thing.  Sup- 
pose that  we  woke  with  one  sudden  thrill  .  .  .into  the  full  noon 
of  intellectual  being,  how  could  the  body  or  the  mind  endure  it? " 

v/ 

"  One  single  thought  has  power  to  keep  our  strength  alive." 

"  Trains  of  thought  that  are  strong  cords  to  bind  the  loose  bun- 
dles of  our  life  together." 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  7* 

"  Our  best  and  strongest  thoughts,  like  men's  earliest  and  rudest 
homes,  are  found  or  hollowed  in  the  old  primeval  rock.  In  some 
cleft  of  truth  we  find  shelter,  and  all  the  strength  that  has  been 
treasured  up  in  meeting  the  storms  of  centuries  is  made  available 
for  our  protection.  Not  till  our  pride  rebels  against  the  archi- 
tecture of  these  first  homes,  and  we  go  out  and  build  more  stately 
houses  of  theory  and  speculation  and  discovery  and  science,  do 
we  begin  to  feel  the  feebleness  that  is  in  us,  how  doubt  makes  the 
joints  of  our  structure  weak,  and  prejudice  spoils  all  its  fair  pro- 
portions, and  our  ignorance  is  stronger  than  our  skill  at  every 
step." 

"  After  all,  it  is  in  a  few  great  tracts  of  hard  granitic  truth,  the 
deep  accumulations  of  dead  years,  that  this  whole  modern  world 
of  ours  rests,  waiting  for  the  manifold  change  of  time.  In  their 
clefts  and  ridges  lies  the  alluvium  of  modern  theory  and  thought, 
wherein  we  plant  and  tend  the  bright  flowers  and  sunny  fruits 
of  our  daily  life;  but  when  we  would  found  a  system-structure 
that  shall  stand,  how  we  dig  deep  till  we  find  the  solid  rock  and 
build  on  that ;  .  .  .  when  we  would  read  the  moral  history  of  our 
earth,  how  we  find  it  written  in  the  piled  stones  of  those  dark 
foundations." 

Nowhere  in  these  note-books  does  Phillips  Brooks  regard  him- 
self as  a  pioneer  in  search  of  new  thought.  It  is  evident  enough 
that  he  is  passing  through  some  sort  of  crisis;  but  his  method  of 
allaying  doubt  or  attaining  conviction  is  distinctively  his  own. 
He  does  not  test  truth  by  individual  experiences,  but  by  the 
larger  experiences  of  humanity.  All  that  he  asks  is  to  enter 
more  deeply  into  the  meaning  of  familiar  truths  that  have  been 
waiting  to  be  understood  His  ruling  idea  is  that  history  contains 
the  material  with  which  the  intellect  must  deal;  the  agency  or 
coin  we  must  offer  in  order  to  transfer  it  into  our  own  being  is 
faith.  Of  things  in  the  past,  freely  offered  to  the  reason  and  soul 
of  man,  there  is  this  condition  only  for  their  reception :  Believe  and 
thou  shalt  have  them  for  thine  own.  The  secret  of  power  was 
to  enter,  and  ever  more  deeply,  into  the  meaning  of  old  familiar 
things.  In  this  lay  the  principle  of  progress;  this  was  Christian 
radicalism. 

"  I  believe  in  these  things  because  I  know  that  they  have  helped 
my  race.  I  look  to  them  as  I  look  to  the  sun  with  a  faith  that 
all  the  centuries  of  sunlight  forbid  me  to  disown.  I  hear  them 
from  the  Bible  claiming  my  allegiance,  as  from  all  nature  I  hear 


72  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

God's  voice  demanding  that  I  should  give  reason  room  to  grow  to 
trust  and  love." 

"  Every  identification  that  a  man  can  make  of  himself  with  his 
race  is  so  much  power  gained.  He  multiplies  his  life  eight  hun- 
dred millionfold.  The  world  was  made  and  sun  and  stars  ordained 
and  salvation  sent  to  earth  for  him.  The  history  of  the  race  be- 
comes his  experience,  the  happiness  of  the  race  his  glory,  the  pro- 
gress of  the  race  his  hope." 

"  The  awakening  to  an  old  truth  may  be  worth  more  to  us  than 
the  discovery  of  a  new.  For,  in  spite  of  our  dulness  and  deadness 
to  it,  it  has  still  been  slowly  ripening  our  nature  for  its  reception 
and  the  final  heart-acknowledgment  of  its  truth.  This  prelim- 
inary process  we  do  not  feel,  but  when  the  day  of  our  awakening 
comes,  then  old  dreams  half  remembered  take  at  once  their 
proper  places,  and  we  recognize  the  growth  that  has  been  going 
on  within  us  and  now  has  brought  this  precious  truth  to  birth." 

"  Sometimes  with  a  touch  of  vulgar  circumstance  we  wake  to  a 
thought  that  we  have  been  thinking,  or  a  faith  that  we  have  been 
feeling,  for  long  years  and  known  it  not;  how  the  phenomena  of 
our  life  are  torn  aside,  and  we  look  down  into  its  substance  on 
whose  broad  bosom  all  our  hopes  and  plans  and  loves  have 
been  built  all  through  these  years  of  hating,  planning,  loving, 
hoping,  when  we  were  proud  and  conscious  of  the  living,  but 
knew  nothing  of  the  life.  For  thought  and  faith  lie  too  deep 
within  us  for  our  blind  eyes  to  see  or  our  weak  hands  to  grasp 
them." 

"  We  do  not  speak  alone ;  all  honor  and  virtue  of  antiquity  bear 
witness  to  our  truth,  all  its  struggles  for  a  purer  life,  all  its  cling- 
ings  to  a  truer  faith.  And  the  future  sends  its  voice  to  plead  for 
us,  all  the  hopes  of  posterity,  all  the  longings  of  our  race,  all  the 
dim  glimpses  of  truth  yet  to  be  revealed  and  blessing  yet  to  be 
attained  .  .  .  The  whole  world  with  its  histories  and  hopes 
reasons  with  every  soul,  and  adjures  it  to  judge  wisely  and  be 
firm  and  true." 

"When  Solomon's  great  temple  to  the  Lord  was  done,  he  brought 
in  the  things  which  his  father  had  dedicated.  We  build  our  tem- 
ples of  duty  and  devotion  to  the  Lord  our  God.  We  suit  them 
to  our  growing  needs,  to  the  changing  demands  of  new  times  and 
seasons;  but  with  our  new  modes  and  means  of  worship,  we  may 
set  up  in  them  too  our  fathers'  holy  things,  their  true  old  faith 
and  fervent  prayers,  the  fragrant  memory  of  their  good  lives,  the 
censers  with  the  incense  of  their  praise  still  about  them.     So 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  n 

their  dead  worship  shall  give  life  to  ours ;  so  with  our  Christian 
prayers  shall  mingle  the  noble  conservatism  that  treasures  up  a 
Christian  past." 

"Our  hope  is  in  this  Christian  radicalism,  which,  through  the 
myriad  shows  and  semblances  of  Christian  life,  goes  down  di- 
rectly to  the  root  of  things,  and  clings  to  Charity,  and  says,  'Lo, 
out  of  these  shall  grow  a  Christian  church  for  all  the  world,  and 
out  of  them  a  Christian  experience  for  me1" 

In  his  vocabulary  the  word  "truth,"  like  the  word  "life,"  is  of 
frequent  recurrence.  Truth  is  personified  as  a  Deity  dwelling 
in  a  shrine  where  men  may  worship,  but  also  comes  out  of  her 
pillared  temple,  and  descends  into  the  common  world  of  human 
life: 

"Truth  lives  and  thrives  in  her  fair  house  of  Learned  Theory. 
But  its  grand,  pillared  front  is  too  high,  its  wide  doors  too  rich 
and  ponderous;  her  form  as  she  moves  within  too  fair  and  proud 
and  queenly  for  common  men  to  dare  to  come  and  enter  her  great 
gates  and  ask  to  learn  of  God  and  Nature  and  their  own  humanity 
from  her  lips.  Rather  will  they  stand  without  forever,  looking 
from  far  away  upon  the  towers  of  her  wondrous  home  and  see  the 
great  Mistress  walking  with  a  few  bold  scholars  through  the  green- 
ness of  her  trees,  deeming  it  all  a  thing  in  which  there  is  no  part 
for  them.  So  then,  fair  Truth,  that  she  may  claim  her  right  to 
govern  from  her  readiness  to  help  all  men,  lays  by  her  gorgeous 
robes,  takes  the  plain  white  mantle  of  most  simple  faith,  comes 
down  from  her  great  house,  and  goes  along  the  crowded  street  and 
close  lanes  of  poor  men's  homes,  with  a  lesson  and  a  smile  for 
each,  a  soothing  touch  for  the  sick  child's  forehead,  a  helping 
word  for  the  poor  workingwoman,  a  passing  look  that  makes  the 
strong  man's  heart  more  strong  and  happy,  long  after  she  has 
passed  back  to  her  house." 

"Crown  the  truth  supreme  in  every  department  and  office  of 
your  soul.  Set  it  on  the  throne  with  all  the  majesty  of  kingliness 
about  it.  Stand  it  in  your  temples  and  let  the  incense  of  your 
daily  prayers  rise  up  in  all  the  beauty  of  God's  holiness  about  it. 
Make  it  your  guide  and  friend  in  all  your  hourly  business:  truth 
of  design  and  truth  of  expectation,  truth  of  plan  and  purpose  and 
labor,  truth  of  taste  and  judgment,  of  time  and  place — let  them 
blend  to  make  your  whole  life  true  and  worthy  of  His  service  who 
is  the  Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life.  Whoever  will  not  bow 
before  this  monarch  you  have  crowned,  let  him  be  rebel  to  you." 


74  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"We  do  not  understand  our  life.  Truth  has  laid  her  strong 
piers  in  the  past  eternity  and  the  eternity  to  come,  and  now  she 
is  bridging  the  interval  with  this  life  of  ours.  .  .  .  Controversies 
grow  tame  and  tiresome  to  the  mind  that  has  looked  on  truth. 
.  .  .  We  walk  the  bridge  of  life.  Can  we  not  trust  its  safety 
on  the  two  great  resting-places  of  God's  wisdom?" 

He  asks  why  it  is  the  great  truths,  that  possess  the  power  of 
regenerating  the  soul  to  a  higher  life,  should  become  trite  and 
lose  their  appeal: 

"  We  may  make  it  a  rule  that  whenever  there  is  triteness  there  is 
some  lack  of  truth;  some  falsehood,  open  or  concealed,  in  speaker 
or  hearer,  wherein  the  triteness  and  tediousness  consist.  If, 
when  a  man  is  preaching  what  the  whole  gospel  of  nature  and 
revelation  forbids  us  to  believe  untrue,  we  yet  find  it  dry  and 
tame,  it  may  be  well  for  us  to  pause  and  ask  for  the  seat  of  the 
untruth  we  may  be  sure  there  is  somewhere.  It  may  be  in  him. 
The  words  he  says  may  be  tinged  with  the  insincerity  of  the 
mouth  that  says  them.  .  .  .  Or  it  may  be  in  us,  for  our  frivolity 
may  be  so  estranged  from  earnestness  or  moral  truth  that  it  does 
no  even  know  its  own  footstep.  ...  Or  again  it  may  be  in  cir- 
cumstances and  relations.  For  there  is  a  truth  of  time  as  well 
a  truth  of  purpose  and  fact.  But  one  thing  is  certain:  the  trite- 
ness must  be  in  some  falseness  somewhere,  for  truth  is  never  trite. 
We  pray  the  prayer  and  read  the  Bible  of  the  old  fathers  with  as 
much  fresh  comfort  and  delight  as  we  see  the  old  sun  rise  every 
morning." 

"  The  vessels  that  we  call  empty  are  full  to  overflowing  of  earth's 
common  air,  and  the  hearts  that  seem  to  us  most  dull  and  vacant 
have  their  true  share,  we  may  remember,  of  true  humanity,  hu- 
man motive,  human  prejudice,  and  human  faith.  Thinking  thus 
we  may  win  for  them  something  of  that  active  regard  which, 
recognizing  in  them  powers  like  our  own,  wills,  hopes,  capacities 
of  truths,  may  go  on  to  feed  their  hopes  with  noble  aims,  point 
their  wills  to  worthy  deeds,  and  fill  their  souls  as  full  of  truth  as 
they  are  able  to  contain  it." 

One  dominant  motive  running  through  these  closely  written 
note-books  is  intellectual,  indicating  birth  into  a  world  of  fresh 
thought.  There  is  a  tone  of  mastery  and  sense  of  power,  the 
realization  that  he  was  stepping  into  a  rich  heritage.  Closely 
accompanying  this  attitude  is  another  mood,  never  far  away, 
demanding  reconciliation  of  the  activity  of  reason  with  the  con- 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  75 

duct  of  life.  To  this  end  everything  seems  finally  to  converge. 
He  does  not  collate  ideas  for  the  purpose  of  comparison  or  discus- 
i,  "sion.  He  dwells  on  the  issue  of  life  and  how  thought  and  truth 
are  related  to  it.  How  ideas  are  to  be  brought  into  organic  rela- 
tionship with  the  will  is  still  his  problem,  as  it  had  been  when 
he  first  became  aware  of  his  intellectual  power. 

"  A  fresh  thought  may  be  spoiled  by  sheer  admiration.  It  was 
given  to  us  to  work  in  and  to  live  by.  There  is  more  of  clearness 
in  our  eyes  than  of  skill  and  readiness  in  our  hands.  It  is  be- 
cause every  thought  should  minister  to  the  work  of  life  that  it 
deserves  and  claims  our  reverence.  It  will  give  its  blessing  to 
us  only  on  our  knees.  From  this  point  of  view,  thought  is  as 
holy  a  thing  as  prayer,  for  both  are  worship." 

"  We  need  new  standards  of  usefulness  and  use.  There  is  a  duty 
incumbent  on  us  to  recognize  and  be  grateful  for  the  slightest 
wedge  that  began  the  opening  up  of  our  lives.  Faith  and  facul- 
ties both  need  strengthening ;  conscience  can  help  the  first,  long, 
earnest  daily  care  can  help  the  second." 

v/    "  Life  is  developing  the  energies  of  thought,  while  thought  is 
working  out  the  richness  that  lies  hid  in  life." 

"  Every  past  deed  becomes  a  master  to  us;  we  put  ourselves  in 
the  power  of  every  act.  A  deed  simply  conceived  and  planned 
belongs  still  to  the  heritage  of  thought,  but  when  it  passes  into 
act  there  comes  a  personality  to  it,  we  gain  ownership  in  it,  and 
men  will  give  us  credit  for  its  good  and  hold  us  responsible  for 
its  ill." 

"  Even  in  the  old  superstitions,  the  amulets  and  charms,  saints' 
medals  and  saints'  bones,  bits  of  the  cross  and  thorns  from  the 
crown,  there  was  some  power  of  strength  in  weakness  and  safety 
in  alarm,  because  there  was  belief  in  them,  and  belief  always 
ministers  to  power." 

"  In  the  long  years  when  great  principles  are  busily  clothing 
and  arming  themselves  for  their  work,  our  short-sighted  weak- 
ness thinks  them  idle." 

"  Some  great  true  principle  must  inspire  our  work.  There  must 
be  no  stint  of  labor  where  labor  will  tell  for  our  neighbors'  happi- 
ness, but  no  wasteful  extravagance  of  it  where  it  will  not  profit. 
Our  study  must  regulate  itself  by  the  principle  of  profusion  that 
is  not  waste.     And  so  most  of  all  must  our  faith.     We  have  be- 


76  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

lief  enough  to  buy  all  needful  truth.  That  must  be  our  first  care. 
Then  if  there  be  any  left  we  may  spend  it  afterwards  as  taste  and 
conscience  lead.  But  it  is  at  once  foolishness  and  wickedness  so 
to  lavish  it  upon  the  luxuries  of  metaphysics  and  of  science 
that  when  we  come  to  the  providing  of  great  household  truths 
— religion,  morals,  and  the  practical  sense  whose  needful  offices 
fill  up  each  day — we  must  stint  them  of  the  profusion  that  is  their 
due." 

"  It  is  a  very  happy  but  not  at  all  a  merry  thing  to  pass  from 
another's  mastery,  and  so  more  or  less  another's  responsibility, 
into  our  own." 

"  We  carry  all  our  interests  with  us,  if  we  did  but  know  it,  into 
all  our  work.  There  is  not  enough  of  us,  mind,  heart,  or  brain, 
to  make  many  men  of,  hardly  enough  to  make  one  well.  Every 
scene  and  thought  and  habit  weaves  itself  with  every  other  to 
clothe  our  life." 

"  Remember  we  are  debtors  to  the  good  by  birth,  but  remember 
we  may  become  debtors  to  the  bad  by  life,  and  both  sides  of 
service  and  allegiance  must  be  paid  alike." 

"  If  we  could  find  some  soul  so  pure  that  we  might  say  of  its  life, 
Here  is  a  spirit  that  has  made  the  flesh  its  helper  and  its  slave, 
not  its  partner  and  its  lord,  then  we  might  test  our  own  life  by 
that  soul's  working,  know  that  deeds  of  which  he  was  capable  were 
pure  and  holy,  unstained  by  fleshly  corruption.  But  no  human 
life  can  give  us  such  a  test.  By  approximation  only  can  we 
make  such  use  of  human  lives.  We  must  use  our  truth  the  other 
way.  This  deed  must  be  deed  for  carnal  and  not  saintly  minds, 
because  I  find  what  spirituality  there  is  in  me,  what  energy  of 
spirit  there  is  in  all  our  human  race,  protesting  against  it,  shrink- 
ing from  it,  growing  weak  or  dead  when  it  has  yielded  to  its 
power." 

"  There  are  truths  which  the  moral  state  feels  that  it  must  have, 
but  which  it  still  discredits — truths  with  ungracious  offices,  the 
common  executioners,  as  it  were,  who  live  in  darkness  till  their 
help  is  needed  in  the  last  resort.  Such  is  the  old  stern  truth  that 
pain  and  death  must  follow  human  sin  and  suffering,  is  linked  to 
crime  by  crime's  own  nature  and  the  charter  of  our  life." 

He  deems  it  a  false  theory  that  we  ought  not  to  criticise  de- 
fects in  our  neighbor's  life  unless  we  have  the  purity  and  truth 
in  ourselves  we  demand  in  him : 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  77 

"  It  is  false  because  it  ignores  that  self-criticism  which  every 
honest  man  is  far  readier  to  bring  in  judgment  to  his  own  heart 
than  to  his  brother's  life.  A  true  man's  ideal  once  worthily 
set  up,  it  is  as  much  a  sin  against  that  standard  to  overlook  an- 
other's failure  as  to  flatter  and  disguise  our  own.  In  no  malig- 
nant, or  envious,  or  unworthy  sense,  our  own  imperfection  is  ever 
crying  in  our  ears  that  our  neighbors  are  imperfect  too." 

The  absence  of  anything  like  a  personal  tone  is  a  characteristic 
of  these  note-books.  In  reality  they  are  confessions,  the  records 
of  inward  aspiration  and  experience.  Here  is  a  passage  which, 
despite  the  impersonal  form,  reveals -the  reserve  which  through- 
out his  life  he  wore  as  a  garment,  and  also  indicates  something 
of  its  motive : 

"If  we  talk  with  any  weak  companion  that  we  meet  of  re- 
ligion, of  friendship,  and  truth,  then  friendship  will  cease  to  be 
beautful  and  religion  to  be  holy,  and  truth  will  turn  to  falsehood, 
the  trust  and  honor  of  our  life  be  turned  to  doubt  and  baseness. 
In  course  of  time  we  come  to  the  knowledge  of  this  mental 
domestic  economy." 

No  summary  will  do  justice  to  the  wide  range  of  thought  and 
observation  which  these  records  of  Brooks  disclose;  yet  an  im- 
perfect summary  may  give  a  hint  of  what  it  is  impossible  to 
present  in  full  quotation.  He  was  meditating  upon  the  funda- 
mental appearances  of  things,  the  sun  and  the  sunlight,  the  hills 
and  the  mountains,  the  rocks,  and  their  crevices,  the  ocean,  the 
waves,  the  tide,  the  green  fields  and  the  rivers;  the  phenomena 
in  the  life  of  man,  his  toil,  his  suffering,  his  evil  and  sin;  but  the 
aspiration  also, — the  hunger  and  the  thirst  for  good;  the  city 
streets,  the  traffic,  the  cares  of  business,  country  lanes,  the  flow- 
ers, the  sabbath  bells,  the  churches;  the  Christian  festivals  and 
the  divisions  of  time,  the  lapse  of  ages,  the  roll  of  past  centuries, 
the  great  works  of  the  past,  the  hopes  of  the  present,  human  pro- 
gress, its  faith,  its  hopes  and  fears.  He  is  impressed  with  finding 
that  in  past  ages  there  were  the  same  doubts,  the  same  mysteries, 
that  oppress  humanity  to-day,  but  meanwhile  the  world  pro- 
gresses. God  meant  it  so  to  be,  that  each  succeeding  age  should 
draw  new  strength  and  use  from  its  doubts  and  sense  of  the  mys- 
tery of  things.  The  idea  of  perpetual  growth  is  the  ruling 
idea  of  religion  and  moral  culture. 


78  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

He  meditates  upon  study  and  its  relation  to  the  coming 
years.  It  is  simply  putting  the  human  powers  at  interest,  in  order 
to  draw  their  accumulations  hereafter.  The  thought  of  death, 
its  meaning,  its  relation  to  life,  is  before  him.  There  are  unut- 
tered  thoughts  in  every  man  that  give  unconscious  motive  to 
action,  like  the  Jewish  name  of  God  which  was  not  pronounced. 
Historical  facts  and  situations  become  parables  with  a  wider 
application.  He  muses  over  Tertullian's  challenge  to  the  an- 
cient world  which  has  lost  its  faith  in  the  worship  of  the  gods 
of  Olympus:  "Quid  ergo  colunt,  qui  talia  non  colunt?"  A  new 
and  higher  reverence  must  always  await  the  decline  of  the  old 
faith.  The  crusades  of  the  Middle  Ages  point  to  the  constant 
necessity  of  spiritual  search  for  Christ  in  his  native  land  and 
country.  One  reason  why  men  cling  to  the  old  machinery 
after  it  is  useless  is  their  dread  of  the  first  cost  of  introduc- 
ing the  new.  It  is  shiftless  housekeeping  to  fill  the  attics 
with  rubbish  thinking  it  may  some  time  be  useful.  He 
meets  in  Coleridge  the  familiar  passage  which  speaks  of 
every  man  as  a  born  Platonist  or  an  Aristotelian.  He  does  not 
apply  it  to  himself,  or  ask  which  he  may  be,  but  he  comments  on 
the  deduction  that  all  the  great  questions  of  the  mind  are  broader 
than  they  seem,  how  great  men  are  bound  most  closely  to  their 
race.  The  daily  questions  of  interest  or  truth  win  wider  scope, 
and  are  part  of  the  development  of  eternity. 

Throughout  the  note-books  are  interspersed  condensed  state- 
ments of  great  truths,  or  epigrammatic  sentences.  "There  is 
no  mystery,"  he  writes,  "  but  waits  to  have  an  axiom;  the  wider 
grows  our  knowledge,  the  wider  grows  our  store  of  axioms." 
Some  of  these  brief  statements  are  given  in  illustration : 

"  Many  men  have  found  a  blessing  and  gone  in  and  enjoyed  it, 
other  men  may  search  their  footprints  and  find  where  they  went 
in.  .  .  .  We  gain  something  of  the  prophet's  inspiration  if  we 
stand  in  the  doorway  and  cry,  Ho!  every  one  that  thirsteth,  to 
the  thirsty  thousands  as  they  pass." 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  benefits  that  we  may  leave  for  men  to 
thank  us  for :  we  may  set  up  new  wonders  in  the  museum  of  know- 
ledge, or  we  may  merely  make  the  doorway  wider  and  access 
easier  to  the  already  crowded  halls." 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  79 

"Age  is  so  apt  to  sneer  when  youth  pronounces  a  judgment  upon 
it.  Is  it  then  so  sure  that  youth  may  not  judge  of  age  as  age  of 
youth?  The  one  sees  by  hope,  the  other  by  memory;  the  one  by 
faith,  the  other  by  experience;  the  one  by  the  direct  light  of  his 
own  fresh  nature,  the  other  by  the  reflected  light  of  his  own  dead 
years.  I  believe  that  a  man  of  thirty  knows  more  of  what  he 
will  be  at  sixty  than  of  what  he  was  at  twelve." 

"  It  must  be  not  what  the  world  can  do  for  me,  but  what  I  can 
do  for  the  world.  Surely  God  never  meant  that  conscious  weak- 
ness should  lessen  conscious  duty.  All  nature,  all  life,  all  gospel 
truth,  is  full  of  the  lesson,  that  the  more  we  measure  ourselves 
against, the  world  the  more  we  shall  see  that,  little  as  we  are, 
there  is  still  great  work  for  us  to  do  in  it." 

"  Let  us  think  there  is  some  noble  economy  we  do  not  under- 
stand that  makes  you  and  me  as  necessary  for  our  places  here  on 
earth  as  Paul  and  Moses  were  for  theirs.  Unless  we  learn  to  feel 
our  lives  essential  we  shall  never  live  them  well.  If  the  world 
does  not  need  my  work,  there  is  little  enough  of  motive  in  my- 
self to  work  for." 

"  Surely  it  shows  a  weak  and  false  sense  of  the  nature  of  true 
power  that  the  great  church  rulers  had  to  forge  for  pious  use  such 
scores  of  miracles  about  their  saints.  .  .  .  We  have  outgrown 
the  need  of  miracles  like  those.  A  moral  miracle  is  growing 
more  and  more  the  test  of  saintship." 

"  No  book  has  made  itself  fairly  the  possession  of  the  race  until 
it  has  made  itself  an  unconscious  necessity  of  men's  life  .... 
Almost  every  man  has  some  book  which  is  .  .  .  not  his  master 
or  his  slave  or  his  friend  alone,  but  part  of  his  own  self." 

"  One  great  evil  of  the  sin  that  we  are  full  of  is  that  it  takes 
away  our  right  to  be  indignant  when  other  people  sin,  and  so  in 
time  our  standard  of  thought  is  lowered  to  their  scale." 

"A  community  is  not  safe  or  happy  unless  among  its  store- 
houses and  dwellings  and  schools  there  is  a  church  somewhere; 
and  in  our  little  world  within  there  is  a  want  that  will  be  felt 
till  we  have  built  a  sanctuary  there." 

"  There  are  moments  in  the  midst  of  life  that  have  a  power 
almost  as  marvellous  as  death.  .  .  .  These  little  deaths  that  we 
die  daily  catch  some  of  the  wonder  of  the  death  that  we  say  so 
often  we  are  all  to  die." 


8o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  Now  and  then  we  seem  to  catch  some  glimpses  of  that  ideal 
world  which  Philo  thinks  God  made  in  his  own  thought,  before 
he  made  this  world  of  sea  and  land  we  live  in." 

"  If  I  knew  that  I  had  fathomed  all  the  love  or  all  the  wisdom 
of  God,  how  faith  and  reverence  and  trust  would  fall  away  from  a 
being  that  such  powers  as  mine  could  grasp." 

"  You  and  I  go  out  to-night  and  look  at  the  heavens  all 
aflame  with  stars  and  call  it  beauty;  but  the  wise  man  in  his 
tower  studies  these  same  bright  heavens  and  proclaims  it  law." 

"  Much  of  our  principle  and  knowledge  lies  by  us  all  unem- 
ployed, not  a  treasure  because  not  a  use." 

"  In  earth's  great  armory  hang  each  man's  arms  and  the  com- 
mission that  contains  his  labors." 

"  No  doubt  that  haunted  you  along  the  way  has  any  right  to 
trouble  your  convictions  when  the  truth  is  found." 

"  We  have  no  more  right  to  confound  doubt  and  disbelief  than 
mystery  and  falsehood." 

"  The  gracious  mercy  that  binds  omnipotence  a  willing  servant 
to  every  humble  human  prayer." 

"  These  constant  forces,  faith,  conscience,  religion,  are  every- 
where consciously  or  unconsciously  at  work." 

"  Only  by  an  identification  of  duty  and  delight  will  life  grow 
up  into  manly  grace." 

"Every  new  sympathy  according  to  its  fulness  makes  us  richer 
by  more  or  less  of  a  neighbor's  life." 

"  Faith  could  once  shake  mountains;  mountains  now  shake 
faith." 

"We  must  answer  for  our  actions;  God  will  answer  for  our 
powers." 

"  There  is  a  limit  to  our  achievement; but  none  to  our  attempt." 

"  We  are  builders,  not  architects  of  history  and  life." 

The  principle  underlying  the  fragmentariness,  the  wide  read- 
ing, the  studies  and  deeper  meditations  of  which  these  note-books 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  81 

of  Phillips  Brooks  are  the  evidence,  is  the  value  of  the  human 
soul.  It  is  this  which  gives  unity  to  the  mass  of  quotations  and 
reflections.  He  heard  much  in  the  Virginia  Seminary  of  the  love 
■v  of  souls  as  the  motive  of  the  Christian  ministry.  He  had  heard 
it  from  his  childhood.  It  was  the  motto  of  the  Evangelical 
school.  It  was  now  becoming  the  motive  of  his  own  life.  But 
he  followed  his  own  method  in  making  that  motive  a  conscious 
possession.  Before  the  human  soul  could  be  loved,  it  must  be 
known.  He  turned  to  literature  and  to  history  as  consti- 
tuting together  the  biography  of  man.  He  wandered  up  and 
down  its  highways,  he  turned  into  its  bypaths;  but  wherever  he 
went,  from  great  writers  or  those  less  known,  heathen  and  Chris- 
tian, ancient  and  modern,  he  never  failed  to  extract  judgments 
of  value,  unsuspected  revelations  of  the  beauty,  the  dignity,  the 
greatness,  the  worth,  of  the  human  soul.  He  saw  also  the  dan- 
gers with  which  the  soul  of  man  was  surrounded,  the  sin,  the  evil, 
the  curse,  and  the  tragedy  of  life.  He  gathered  a  new  and  larger 
conception  of  what  the  salvation  of  such  a  soul  must  mean. 

But  to  know  the  human  soul  he  must  enter  into  its  experi- 
ences, its  convictions,  study  their  formulas,  and  somehow 
make  them  his  own.  He  did  not  undertake  to  sift  experiences 
or  choose  those  agreeable  to  his  mood.  To  sit  in  judgment  upon 
the  records  was  not  for  him,  but  rather,  assuming  that  all  was 
genuine,  to  enter  into  the  meaning.  The  experience  of  the  race 
was  to  be  his  experience.  His  object  is  to  penetrate  here  and 
there,  wherever  the  way  is  open,  into  the  secret  of  the  life  of  man. 
Whether  he  understands  or  not,  whether  he  can  appreciate  what 
he  has  been  called  to  appropriate  as  his  natural  heritage,  is  an- 
other question.  He  is  willing  to  wait .  As  he  pursues  his  search,  he 
comes  to  Christ  as  the  greatest  figure  in  the  records  of  human  life. 
There  are  in  his  note-books  indications  that  already  he  was 
drawn  to  that  study  of  His  life  and  teaching  which  was  to  be  in 
the  future  his  one  preoccupation.  But  it  was  not  until  some 
years  after  he  had  left  the  seminary  that  he  discerned  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  personality  of  Christ,  in  history,  in  the  life  of  institu- 
tions, and  in  individual  experience.  Meantime,  he  recognized 
the  value  of  that  traditional  presentation  of  His  person  with 
which  he  had  been  familiar  from  childhood,  and  sought  to  clothe 
it  in  impressive  forms  of  appeal.  Among  the  texts  chosen  for 
6 


82  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

his  first  sermons  was  one  which  became  in  later  years  the  leading 
motive  of  his  preaching:  "Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you, 
and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip? "     (John  xiv.,  9). 

In  the  souls  of  great  men,  the  issues  of  the  age  in  which  they 
live  come  to  a  focus.  All  that  was  characteristic  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  was  rising  into  the  consciousness  of  Phillips 
Brooks  at  the  age  of  twenty-two.  The  issues  the  century  had 
raised  came  up  before  him  for  solution  at  the  moment  when  he 
was  claiming  his  spiritual  heritage.  There  was  doubt  and  conflict 
before  he  gained  the  victory.  Differing  epochs  have  differing 
types  of  the  process  known  as  conversion.  What  may  be  called 
his  conversion  differs  from  that  of  an  Augustine  or  a  Luther,  but 
the  emergency  was  no  less  sharply  distinguished.  A  new  world 
had  been  revealed  to  him,  of  which  Augustine  and  Luther  did  not 
dream.  He  was  reading  the  new  revelation  in  the  world  of  out- 
ward nature,  exploited  by  the  labors  of  science  or  by  the  insight  of 
great  poets.  The  conception  of  humanity  anticipated  by  Herder 
and  Rousseau  had  been  unfolded  in  its  deeper  significance,  in  its 
details  and  as  a  whole,  and  laid  before  him,  by  the  researches  of 
many  students,  as  never  hitherto  in  any  age.  And  again,  the 
great  body  of  modern  literature,  that  had  been  produced  with 
such  marvellous  fertility,  a  consequence  of  the  Protestant  Refor- 
mation, still  waited  for  its  adjustment  with  Christian  faith.  In 
these  directions  he  could  not  wander  without  making  the  effort 
to  bring  them  into  unity,  to  reconcile  them  with  faith  in  God  and 
obedience  to  the  divine  will.  In  a  word,  the  product  of  the  cen- 
turies since  the  Reformation,  in  which  must  be  included  the 
opening  up  of  the  history  of  humanity  and  the  bringing  together 
of  dissevered  worlds,  was  handed  to  him  with  the  injunction  to 
make  it  subservient  to  some  higher  unifying  truth.  He  loved  it 
all;  it  was  no  question  any  longer  of  abandonment,  but  of  recon- 
ciliation and  appropriation  in  some  deeper  way. 

In  this  process  he  struggled,  haunted  by  doubts  and  nega- 
tions, by  disintegrating  influences,  whether  bred  by  science  or 
by  literature, — the  substitution  of  impersonal  law  for  a  righteous 
intelligent  will,  the  worship  of  humanity  in  the  place  of  Christ, 
the  fatalism  in  literature  which  was  paralyzing  moral  effort  and 
inducing  moral  degeneracy.  To  be  true  to  himself,  to  renounce 
nothing  which  he  knew  to  be  good,  and  yet  bring  all  things  cap- 


INWARD  DEVELOPMENT  83 

tive  to  the  obedience  of  Christ,  was  the  problem  before  him.     He 
hesitated  long  before  he  could  believe  that  such  a  solution  was 
possible.     His  heart  was  with  this  rich,  attractive  world  of  human 
life,  in  the  multiplicity  and  wealth  of  its  illustrations,  until  it  was 
revealed  to  him  that  it  assumed  a  richer  but  a  holier  aspect  when 
seen  in  the  light  of  God.     But  to  this  end,  he  must  submit  his 
will  to  the  divine  will  in  the  spirit  of  absolute  obedience.     Here 
the  struggle  was  deep  and  prolonged.     It  Was  a  moral  struggle 
,     mainly,  not  primarily  intellectual  or  emotional.     He  feared  that 
he  should  lose  something  in  sacrificing  his  own  will  to  God's  will. 
How  the  gulf  was  bridged  he  could  not  tell.     He  wrote  down  as 
one  of  the  first  of  the  texts  on  which  he  should  preach,  "Thy 
people  shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power,"  with  the  com- 
ment that  "willingness  is  the  first  Christian  step."     Thus  the 
conversion  of  Phillips  Brooks  becomes  a  representative  process 
of  his  age.     So  far  as  the  age  has  been  great,  through  science  or 
through  literature,  its  greatness  passed  into  his  soul.     The  weak- 
ness of  his  age,  its  sentimentalism,  its  fatalism,  he  overcame  in 
himself  when  he  made  the  absolute  surrender  of  his  will  to  God. 
All  that  he  had  hitherto  loved  and  cherished  as  the  highest,  in- 
stead of  being  lost  was  given  back  to  him  in  fuller  measure.     To 
the  standard  he  had  now  raised  there  rallied  great  convictions 
and  blessed  experiences,  the  sense  of  the  unity  of  life,  the  harmony 
of  the  whole  creation,  the  consciousness  of  joy  in  being  alive,  the 
conviction  that  heaven  is  the  goal  of  earth.     He  was  submitting 
himself  in  the  spirit  of  a  childlike  docility  to  receive  every  lesson 
which  the  divine  Instructor  of  humanity  would  impart.     To  use 
the  familiar  metaphor,  he  was  like  a  lyre  played  upon  in  quick 
responsiveness  by  the  spiritual  forces  in  the  universe,  whether  in 
nature  or  in  the  history  of  man,  anxious  to  miss  no  chord  of  the 
heavenly  harmony.     Out  of  this  process  was  born  the  preacher 
who  in  turn  was  to  play  upon  humanity  as  a  lyre,  evoking  from 
it  the  same  response  which  his  own  soul  had  rendered  back  to 
the  choir  of  the  immortals.     Beneath  the  rich  contents  of  his 
mind  and  heart,  there  was  a  deeper  simplicity.     There  was  but 
one  rule  to  follow :  he  must  be  the  man  that  he  ought  to  be,  and 
was  made  to  be,  to  do  always  the  thing  that  he  ought  to  do,  and 
then  labor  to  bring  the  world  which  he  loved  to  his  own  standards. 


CHAPTER  V. 

1858-1859. 

LAST  YEAR  AS  STUDENT.  THE  FIRST  SERMON.  ORDI- 
NATION. CALL  TO  PHILADELPHIA.  EXTRACTS  FROM 
NOTE-BOOK. 

As  Phillips  Brooks  was  leaving  Virginia  in  1858  for  the  long 
summer  vacation,  he  admits  that  the  second  year  in  the  seminary- 
had  been  a  happy  one.  He  liked  the  Virginia  people,  but,  as  he 
remarks,  he  still  hated  Virginia,  which  meant  that  he  could  not 
become  reconciled  to  a  land  where  slavery  existed,'  He  was 
filled  with  joy  at  the  thought  of  going  home,  sending  word  to  his 
mother  to  be  on  the  doorsteps  to  meet  him.  The  summer  was 
passed  partly  at  the  old  Phillips  homestead  in  North  Andover, 
and  for  the  rest,  with  occasional  excursions  to  Nahant  and  else- 
where, in  Boston,  in  the  usual  way  with  the  family.  Much  of  his 
time  was  devoted  to  his  younger  brothers,  who  looked  up  to  him 
as  an  example  and  guide,  wondering  at  the  new  life  on  which  he 
was  soon  to  enter.  With  his  brother  Frederick,  who  was  to 
enter  Harvard  in  the  fall,  he  took  up  again  his  college  text-books, 
and  read  over  favorite  Greek  and  Latin  authors.  It  was  a  cir- 
cumstance in  the  family  history  when  his  father  purchased  a 
share  in  the  Athenaeum  Library,  enabling  him  to  resort  to 
its  rooms,  with  the  latest  books  on  its  tables.  The  chief  event 
in  his  intellectual  life  was  making  the  acquaintance  of  Goethe. 
To  one  of  his  friends  he  writes:  "I  have  just  finished  a  book 
that  has  held  me  very  close  ever  since  I  began  it,  that  is  Lewes's 
Life  of  Goethe.  I  had  always  rather  shrunk  from  it  till  I  took  it 
up  quite  by  accident  and  liked  it  so  much  I  found,  or  made,  time 
to  put  it  right  through."  How  deep  the  impression  made  by 
Goethe  is  evident  from  a  sonnet  indited  to  him,  beginning, 
"Once  in  long  ages  God  sends  such  a  soul";  and  further  from 
the  numerous  citations  in  his  note-book. 

84 


ORDINATION  85 

"  It  is  never  well  to  put  ungenerous  constructions  when  others, 
equally  plausible  and  more  honorable,  are  ready;  and  we  shall  do 
well  here  to  follow  the  advice  of  a  thoughtful  and  kindly  writer, 
to  employ  our  imagination  in  the  service  of  charity." 

"  Our  strength  is  measured  by  our  plastic  power.  .  .  .  Bricks 
and  mortar  are  mortar  and  bricks  until  the  architect  can  make 
them  something  else." 

"  Make  me  feel  what  I  have  not  yet  felt,  make  me  think  what  I 
have  not  yet  thought,  then  I  will  praise  you.  But  shrieks  and 
noise  will  not  supply  the  place  of  pathos." 

"  Art,  says  Lewes,  enshrines  the  great  sadness  of  the  world,  but 
is  not  itself  sad.  .  .  .  Goethe  could  not  write  Werther  before  he 
had  outlived  Wertherism." 

"  Aujourdhui  l'homme  desire  immense'ment  mais  il  veut  faible- 
ment." 

"The  shout  of  freedom  rouses  them  to  revolt;  no  sooner  are 
they  free  than  the  cry  is  'Whom  shall  we  obey? '  " 

"  The  roll  of  drums  has  this  merit  at  all  events,  that  it  draws 
men  from  their  library  table  to  the  window,  and  so  makes  them 
look  out  upon  the  moving,  living  world  of  action,  wherein  the 
erudite  may  see  a  considerable  sensation  made  even  by  men 
unable  to  conjugate  a  Greek  verb  in  Greek  letters." 

"  Let  mental  culture  go  on  advancing,  let  science  go  on  gaining 
in  depth  and  breadth,  and  the  human  intellect  expand  as  it  may, 
it  will  never  go  beyond  the  elevation  and  moral  grandeur  of  Chris- 
tianity as  it  shines  forth  in  the  Gospels." 

These  following  sentences,  extracted  from  Goethe's  letters,  may 
be  assumed  to  have  a  personal  application : 

"  I  have  a  purer  delight  than  ever  when  I  have  written  some- 
thing which  well  expresses  what  I  meant." 

"  The  happiest  thing  is  that  I  can  now  say  I  am  on  the  right 
path,  and  from  this  time  forward  nothing  will  be  lost." 

"  I  find  in  the  Christian  religion  virtually  the  foundation  of  the 
highest  and  noblest;  and  the  various  manifestations  of  the  same 
in  life  appear  to  me  only  therefore  so  repugnant  and  insipid, 


86  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

because  they  are  failed  representations  of  the  highest."  (Extract 
from  letter  of  Schiller  to  Goethe.) 

Brooks  entered  deeply  into  Goethe's  conception  of  life,  and 
gained  from  him  an  insight  into  the  relations  of  art  to  the  highest 
development  of  man;  but  he  also  makes  a  protest  against  the 
one-sidedness  of  Goethe's  estimate  of  culture.  Goethe  had  said, 
"  We  know  that  we  exist  when  we  recognize  ourselves  in  others  " ; 
Brooks's  comment  runs,  "Nay,  we  do  not  fairly  know  of  our 
existence  till  we  recognize  ourselves  in  God." 

"  Gradually, as  we  study  the  divine  nature,  there  comes  out  from 
it  impulse  after  impulse  that  enters  into  our  own  hearts  and  finds 
some  impulses  akin  to  itself  doing  the  blind  work  there.  Grad- 
ually we  catch  some  glimpse  within  ourselves  of  God's  image  in 
humanity.  .  .  .  We  leave  the  pagan  theology  that  makes  God 
but  a  great  man,  and  reverently  study  the  divine  to  learn  of  it 
what  truth  and  beauty  God  has  planted  in  the  human." 

The  abiding  influence  of  Goethe  may  be  traced  in  the  controlling 
principle  of  Brooks's  preaching  that  the  Christian  life  involves 
spiritual  culture,  an  exigent  opportunity  for  the  development 
of  the  perfect  man  according  to  a  divine  ideal. 

On  his  return  to  Alexandria  in  the  fall  he  was  invited  to  take 
charge  of  a  new  department  of  the  seminary,  where  students 
were  to  receive  a  preliminary  training  before  entering  upon  the 
study  of  theology.  The  experiment  was  afterwards  abandoned, 
but  at  the  time  it  was  regarded  as  an  important  undertaking,  and 
for  the  person  to  whom  it  was  intrusted  it  was  a  mark  of  confi- 
dence and  esteem  as  well  as  recognition  of  scholarship.  It  had  a 
further  significance  for  Brooks — it  meant  success  in  a  line  where 
before  he  had  met  with  failure.  The  salary  was  small,  but  suffi- 
cient to  meet  his  expenses — a  consideration  with  him  of  no  small 
importance.  The  time  had  come  when  he  should  be  indepen- 
dent. He  disliked  to  call  on  his  father  for  money.  His  apology 
when  he  did  so  was  met  with  remonstrances  that  he  should  be  so 
sensitive.  The  home  correspondence  indicates  the  possibility  of 
a  strain  on  both  sides,  the  parents  slowly  relinquishing  the  au- 
thority which  the  sense  of  responsibility  begets.  His  mother 
was  the  first  to  yield.  But  habit  had  a  stronger  hold  upon  the 
father,  who  writes  to  his  son  that  he  is  willing  he  should  act  fof 


ORDINATION  87 

himself  in  the  matter  of  this  invitation  to  take  the  preparatory- 
school.  In  other  ways  the  father  clung  to  the  authority  tradi- 
tionally maintained  in  Puritan  households.  Years  afterwards 
he  complained  in  his  journal  that  he  had  not  been  consulted 
about  an  important  event  in  his  son's  career. 

But  the  mother  was  also  passing  through  a  trial  of  her  own 
in  consequence  of  her  son's  invincible  reserve.  Her  letters  to 
him  met  with  no  response,  letters  displaying  such  depth  of 
love  that  they  cannot  be  read  without  emotion.  No  lack  of 
affection  for  his  mother  caused  this  seeming  neglect.  It 
was  simply  impossible  for  him  to  answer  such  letters.  Of  the 
effect  they  produced  on  him,  silence  was  the  only,  perhaps  the 
most  fitting,  expression.  Neither  then  nor  throughout  his  life 
did  he  freely  give  himself  to  any  one  in  unrestrained  intercourse 
or  personal  communion.  What  he  gave  he  did  in  impersonal 
ways.  About  his  inner  life  or  religious  experience  he  was  dumb. 
He  resembled  his  mother  in  boundless  capacity  for  affection, 
whose  outlet  was  at  last  to  be  found  in  preaching. 

The  father's  letters  were  those  of  a  man  of  affairs,  conversant 
with  the  world,  more  interesting  because  rich  with  the  interests 
of  actual  life.  They  could  be  answered  by  the  son  without  com- 
mitting himself  to  any  utterance  regarding  his  inner  self.  When 
a  young  man  is  entering  upon  life,  the  father  naturally  steps  for- 
ward as  his  guide,  with  practical  suggestion,  while  the  mother 
recedes  for  a  moment  into  the  background.  But  this  moment 
passes  away,  and  the  mother  resumes  her  ascendency.  It  seems 
to  have  been  so  in  the  case  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

At  last  he  broke  his  reserve,  the  accumulated  silence  of  a  year, 
in  a  letter  to  his  brother  William : 

"  Saturday  evening,  November  6,  1858. 

"  This  letter  is  going  to  be  all  about  myself,  and  forgive  it  ac- 
cordingly. Somehow  the  work  I  am  at  begins  to  look  very  differ- 
ent and  strange  to  me.  Do  you  know  I  feel  as  I  never  felt  before, 
to  find  myself  here  within  eight  months  of  the  ministry  ?  Whether 
it  is  this  getting  at  sermon-writing  that  makes  me  feel  more  than 
ever  how  weak  I  am  to  go  about  the  world's  greatest  work,  I  cer- 
tainly do  feel  it  fearfully  to-night.  But  yet  I  tell  you,  Bill,  I 
can't  recall  many  pleasanter  hours  than  those  that  I  have  spent 
in  writing  my  two  or  three  first  poor  sermons.  It  seems  like 
getting  fairly  hold  of  the  plough,  and  doing  something  at  last.     I 


83  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

always  have  been  afraid  of  making  religion  professional,  and 
turning  it  into  mere  stock  in  trade  when  I  approached  the  work, 
but  I  have  never  felt  more  deeply  how  pure  and  holy  and  glorious 
a  thing  our  Christianity  is,  what  a  manly  thing  it  is  to  be  godly, 
till  I  sat  down  to  think  how  I  could  best  convince  other  men  of 
its  purity  and  holiness.  I  do  enjoy  the  work,  and,  with  all  my 
unfitness  for  it,  look  forward  to  a  happy  life  in  trying  to  do  it. 
Somehow  I  have  never  been  quite  frank  with  you ;  as  much  with 
you  as  anybody,  but  not  thoroughly  with  any  one,  I  think.  But 
I  am  beginning  to  own  up  more  fairly  to  myself.  Every  day  it 
seems  as  if  the  thing  I  have  got  to  do  stood  up  plainer  before  me 
and  forced  me  into  frankness.  My  ideas  of  a  minister  are  a  dif- 
ferent thing  from  what  they  were  two  years  ago,  poor  and  un- 
worthy enough  yet,  but  I  think  growing  purer  and  more  worthy. 
It  seems  to  me  every  day  more  and  more  as  if  it  were  treason  to 
his  work  for  him  to  neglect  any  part  of  his  whole  nature  that  is 
given  to  that  work,  and  so  I  think  the  broadest  mental  outline, 
and  the  deepest  moral  truth  and  the  purest  spiritual  faith  are 
more  and  more  the  demands,  one  and  all  of  which  Christ  makes 
of  his  workmen,  growing  to  perfect  men  and  so  to  perfect  Chris- 
tians, to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ.  I 
have  just  been  writing  a  sermon  on  that  subject,  the  '  Manliness 
of  Faith.' 

"  I  have  undertaken  this  year  to  preach  plain  sermons  to  a  small 
congregation  of  from  fifty  to  seventy-five  people  at  one  of  the 
stations  near  the  seminary,  and  feel  that  I  am  better  for  the 
work,  more  and  deeper  in  sympathy  with  simple,  honest  men,  and 
have  a  clearer  light  into  what  common  men's  minds  are  doing, 
and  how  they  may  be  taught  to  do  better  and  nobler  things. 

"  Phil." 

The  letter  was  most  exceptional ;  there  is  hardly  another  to  be 
compared  with  it  for  self-revelation  in  all  his  correspondence. 
Could  the  family  at  home  have  had  the  opportunity  of  knowing 
his  inner  life  any  anxieties  would  have  been  removed  as  to  the 
sincerity  and  genuineness  of  his  religious  purpose,  or  any  doubts 
as  to  his  success  in  the  ministry.  Meantime  this  personal  letter, 
read  by  all  the  family,  was  the  source  of  profound  pleasure  and 
satisfaction.  His  mother  was  silent,  interpreting  more  accu- 
rately how  such  a  letter  should  be  met.     His  father  wrote  in  reply : 

"  It  was  so  exactly  what  I  have  been  wanting  to  hear  from  you 
so  long,  it  breathed  the  spirit  which  I  have  so  long  wished  and 
prayed  for  in  you,  and  I  am  confident  you  will  hereafter  feel  hap- 
pier in  your  own  mind.     Do  go  on,  my  very  dear  son,  and  culti- 


ORDINATION  89 

vate  that  feeling,  prayerfully  and  strongly.  I  am  pleased,  too, 
that  you  find  your  situation  at  the  seminary  pleasanter  and  more 
to  your  satisfaction.  ...  I  would  not  be  so  selfish  as  to  lead 
you  to  think  that  I  am  expressing  only  my  own  feelings;  by  no 
means;  we  all  rejoiced  at  it,  and  your  mother  was  exceedingly 
gratified.  It  was  a  family  letter,  and  only  considered  as  such. 
Do  write  so  often,  my  dear  son,  and  express  your  feelings  freely. 
You  cannot  imagine  how  it  would  gladden  your  parents'  hearts." 

The  last  year  at  the  Virginia  Seminary  was  a  full  one,  though 
somewhat  disturbed  by  the  nearer  approach  to  the  reality  of  the 
ministerial  life.  It  was  well  that  the  best  part  of  his  work  of 
preparation  had  already  been  done,  the  foundation  securely  laid, 
and  the  main  direction  of  his  life  work  clearly  discerned.  During 
the  last  years  it  was  the  custom  to  require  written  sermons  of  the  Jff 
students,  which  were  read  before  the  class  and  the  faculty  for  criti- 
cism. So  Phillips  Brooks  came  to  his  first  sermon,  which  seems  to 
have  marked  a  definite  moment  in  his  experience.  The  family 
at  home  were  also  greatly  moved,  as  by  some  decisive  event, 
which  would  determine  whether  life  was  to  be  a  success  or  a  fail- 
ure, as  if  it  would  reveal  the  result  of  the  years  of  preparation 
about  which  he  had  been  so  reticent.  The  father  was  bold  to  ask 
that  the  sermon  be  sent  him  for  perusal,  with  the  understanding 
that  it  should  be  sacredly  kept  private.  The  word  "private  "  was 
written  on  the  manuscript  above  the  text.  The  son  in  turn  asks 
for  his  father's  opinion: 

"  Tell  me  how  it  struck  you?  How  it  would  have  struck  you 
had  you  heard  a  strange  young  man,  of  six  feet  four,  preach 
it  in  your  own  pulpit ;  what  you  would  have  said  about  it  when 
first  got  home?     Be  indulgent  with  it,  it  is  my  first." 

The  sermon  did  not  elicit  any  enthusiasm  from  his  father  or 
mother,  but,  as  the  expression  goes,  it  seems  to  have  given  "good 
satisfaction."  The  father  thought  it  "sound,"  the  mother  recog- 
nized in  it  "the  Gospel"  and  was  especially  pleased  because 
Christ  was  made  prominent.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  seminary 
it  made  a  deep  impression — the  prophecy  of  the  great  preacher. 
Brooks  himself  referred  to  it  in  his  later  years: 

"  I  well  remember  the  first  sermon  that  I  ever  achieved.  The 
text  was  from  II  Corinthians  xi.,  3,  'The  simplicity  that  is  in 


9o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Christ,'  and  a  cruel  classmate's  criticism  of  it  was  that  'there 
was  very  little  simplicity  in  the  sermon  and  no  Christ.'  I  am 
afraid  that  he  was  right,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  sermon  never 
was  preached  again.  Its  lack  of  simplicity  and  lack  of  Christ  no 
doubt  belonged  together.  It  was  probably  an  attempt  to  define 
doctrine  instead  of  to  show  a  man,  a  God,  a  Saviour."  1 

But  the  sermon  was  a  noteworthy  utterance.  It  was  his  mani- 
festo, and  revealed  his  orientation,  and  the  process  by  which  it 
had  been  reached.  There  are  signs  in  it  of  his  rejection  of  favor- 
ite Evangelical  shibboleths,  while  retaining,  undiminished,  the 
Evangelical  principle  of  knowing  nothing  but  Christ.  Beneath 
the  utterance  lie  the  struggles  of  the  years  when  he  had  been 
ridding  himself  of  the  conventional  language  of  a  religious  party. 
As  the  Evangelical  school,  like  every  other,  passed  into  its 
decline,  it  was  disturbed  by  fears  lest  its  young  men  should  ac- 
cept principles  endangering  the  creeds,  or  weakening  the  hold  of 
familiar  doctrines  whose  external  clothing  was  identified  with 
the  essence  of  the  divine  revelations.  It  was  tacitly  assumed,  or 
so  it  seemed,  that  salvation  depended  on  holding  "sound  views." 
It  had  become  customary  to  speak  of  the  pride  of  the  intellect 
as  the  greatest  foe  to  faith;  to  "preach  Christ"  was  to  renounce 
intellectual  activity.  On  the  other  hand,  Phillips  Brooks  had 
feared  that  if  he  became  a  Christian  minister  it  meant  the  sacri- 
fice of  the  rich  and  ennobling  influences  of  literature,  the  with- 
drawal from  the  large  human  directions  of  the  intellect  and  the 
imagination.  When  he  left  home  to  begin  his  study  for  the 
ministry,  it  was  with  the  words  of  some  friend  or  classmate  ring- 
ing in  his  ears,  that  Christianity  meant  the  lessening  of  a  man, 
the  narrowing  of  the  range  of  human  interests.  He  may  have 
seen  something  of  this  in  those  whom  he  knew,  and  have  feared 
it  in  himself.  He  had  determined  to  know  for  himself  whether 
it  was  true. 

The  note  which  he  strikes  at  the  opening  of  his  sermon  springs 
from  the  deep  conviction  that  the  great  positive  valuable  lines 
of  human  activity  converge  in  Christ.  His  doctrine  is  pos- 
itive, negations  are  absorbed  in  larger  affirmations:  not  the  abne- 
gation or  suppression  of  the  reason,  but  its  consecration  to  Christ 

«  Essays  and  Addresses,  p.  74.  The  greater  part  of  the  sermon  is 
given  in  the  same  volume  as  an  essay,  with  the  title  "The  Centralizing 
Power  of  the  Gospel." 


ORDINATION  91 

is  his  message.  What  is  true  of  the  intellect  applies  also  to  feel- 
ing and  to  will.  So  long  as  consecration  to  Christ  is  the  ruling 
endeavor,  there  is  no  danger  of  license  or  anarchy  within  the 
Church.  There  will  be  developed  a  larger  Christian  Church  for 
all  the  world,  whose  mark  will  be  unification  and  simplicity. 
There  is  something  solemnly  heroic  in  this  one  central  purpose 
standing  calmly  in  the  midst  of  the  feverish  anarchy  of  the  world. 
Such  was  the  substance  of  the  first  sermon.  As  a  sermon  it 
was  overcrowded  with  thought,  ending  with  a  momentous  conclu- 
sion, where  he  gives  the  rationale  of  faith,  worked  out  for  himself 
in  the  seclusion  of  his  soul.  But  it  is  here  only  hinted  at  in  a  few 
sentences :     . 

"  This  new  Christian  simplicity  is  not  perfect  till  it  recognizes 
the  world's  hope  in  its  own.  Then  there  comes  the  true  'liberal- 
ity' of  our  religion.  The  man  begins  to  identify  himself  with 
the  race,  and  wins  a  share  in  its  collective  faith  and  power.  He 
multiplies  his  life  eight  hundred  millionfold.  The  world  was 
made,  and  the  sun  and  stars  ordained,  and  salvation  sent  to  earth 
alike  for  humanity  and  him.  The  history  of  the  race  becomes 
his  experience,  the  happiness  of  the  race  his  glory,  the  progress  of 
the  race  his  hope.  He  begins  to  say,  '  We  shall  do  this  and  thus, 
win  new  secrets  from  nature  and  new  truth  from  God,'  for  this 
man  goes  hand  in  hand  with  humanity  down  the  highways  of  its 
life,  till  they  stand  together  before  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven. 
He  says  of  Christ's  truths :  '  I  believe  in  these  things  because  I 
know  that  they  have  helped  my  race.  I  look  to  them  as  I  look 
to  the  sun,  with  a  faith  that  all  these  centuries  of  sunlight  forbid 
me  to  disown.  I  hear  them  from  the  Bible  claiming  my  alle- 
giance, as  from  all  nature  I  hear  God's  truth  demanding  that  I 
should  give  reason  room  to  grow  to  love  and  faith.'  " 


Brooks  had  felt  his  isolation  at  Alexandria,  and  was  forced 
to  strike  out  for  himself;  yet  he  owed  a  great  debt  to  the  school 
in  Virginia  for  what  it  did  for  him.  It  was  something  that  he 
could  write  in  his  note-book  this  paragraph,  indicating  his  grow- 
ing respect  for  that  which  at  first  he  resented : 

"  It  is  a  noble  and  beautiful  thing  to  feel  ourselves  growing  out 
of  our  own  contempt ;  to  recognize  each  day  that  something  which 
we  have  been  weakly  despising  as  mean  and  poor  is  high  and  pure 
and  rich  in  worth  and  beauty." 


92  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

He  also  took  his  first  lessons  in  the  doctrine  of  tolerance.  Indi- 
vidual conviction  must  go  hand  in  hand  with  the  recognition  of 
the  same  privilege  for  others.     Thus  in  his  note-book  he  writes : 

"  You  have  a  rock  down  somewhere  in  your  soul,  and  that  is  the 
rock  for  you  to  build  on.  Beware  how  you  borrow  a  fragment  of 
some  other  man's  and  plant  it  on  your  sandy  places  and  try  to 
build  on  that.  Dig  deep,  dig  well,  dig  till  you  find  the  proper 
basis  of  your  strength." 

"  Poor  feeble  creatures  in  a  feeble  world,  we  each  must  catch 
what  is  most  comfort  to  his  feebleness.  Believe  in  mine  for  me; 
I  will  believe  in  yours  for  you.  Surely  we  each  have  quite  enough 
to  do  to  hold  our  own,  without  this  cruel  folly  of  saying  to  an- 
other, '  Your  comfort  is  a  cheat,  your  hope  a  heresy,  the  earnest 
life  that  you  are  living  all  a  lie.'  If  you  can  give  him  something 
better,  do  it  in  God's  name.  If  you  can  only  sneer  away  his  peace 
and  pleasure  you  belie  your  manhood  when  you  do  it." 

"  Surely  we  might  make  more  allowance  for  the  roads  we  walk 
in  if  the  great  ends  we  aim  at  are  the  same.  Our  paths  through 
life  are  like  the  great  tracks  men  map  out  on  the  seas.  They  say 
they  go  the  same  way  that  the  ships  of  old  have  gone ;  they  mean 
they  seek  the  same  harbor,  round  the  same  headlands,  shun  the 
same  quicksands,  read  the  same  silent  constant  stars.  But  the 
waves  they  plough  have  changed  a  myriad  times ;  the  great  unrest 
or  circumstance  has  broken  into  confusion  the  unquiet  road  they 
travel,  but  they  call  it  still  the  same,  because  by  the  same  great 
eternal  sureties,  it  points  them  to  the  same  old  heaven.  So  by 
the  sure  witness  of  faith  we  pass  over  the  restless  path  of  human 
accident  to  the  great  truth  harbor  that  we  seek." 

In  the  case  of  such  a  pupil  as  Phillips  Brooks,  no  theological 
training  school  could  have  been  found  adequate,  nor  could  teach- 
ers have  been  found  to  direct  his  course.  He  had  the  vision  of  a 
perfect  teacher,  but  must  have  known  that  he  did  not  exist,  nor 
was  it  desirable  that  any  student  should  have  so  easy  a  solution 
of  the  problems  of  life.  This  passage  is  from  one  of  his  early 
note-books : 

"A  man  that  you  could  come  to  with  the  results  of  your  specu- 
lation, come  to  him  confidingly  and  truthfully,  and  say : '  Here,  see 
what  I  have  done;  take  and  try  what  truth,  what  reality,  or  what 
solid  stuff  there  is  about  it ;  weed  out  for  me  the  weak ;  test  how 
much  strong  remains,  how  strong  it  is,  what  use  it  is  good  for; 


ORDINATION  93 

try  it  unsparingly  and  thoroughly,  for  you  are  wiser  and  more 
trustworthy  than  I.'  " 

Among  his  teachers  was  a  man  who  still  lives  as  a  tradition  by 
the  power  of  his  personality.  Brooks  had  been  attracted  to  Dr. 
Sparrow  from  the  first,  speaking  of  him  in  a  letter  as  "a  splendid 
man,  .  .  .  clear  as  daylight,  and  fair  and  candid,  without  a  par- 
ticle of  dogmatism  or  theological  dry  rot."  In  after  life  he  paid 
his  tribute  to  him  as  "one  of  the  three  or  four  men  whom  I  have 
known  whom  I  look  upon  with  perpetual  gratitude  for  the  help 
and  direction  they  have  given  my  life,  and  whose  power  I  feel  in 
forms  of  action  and  kinds  of  thought  very  different  from  those 
in  which  I  had  specially  to  do  with  them." 

It  was  also  of  great  service  to  him  that  he  was  forced  by  the 
routine  of  the  seminary  to  become  familiar  with  the  belief  of  other 
ages,  and  to  know  the  history  of  Christian  doctrine.  It  was  some 
times  said  of  him  in  his  after  life  that  he  seemed  blind  to  theolog- 
ical distinctions  or  that  he  had  an  inborn  deficiency  for  theological 
statements.  It  would  be  truer  to  say  that  by  some  native  in- 
stinct he  shunned  them.  But  he  was  familiar  enough  with  the 
history  of  religious  formulas  to  know  where  the  pitfalls  lay,  and 
sagacious  enough  to  avoid  them.  He  was  never  guilty  of  pro- 
claiming as  if  it  were  new  truth  some  old  exploded  heresy.  So 
well  was  he  indoctrinated  by  theological  training  that  he  did  not 
err  through  ignorance  or  make  theological  blunders.  When  he 
was  once  urged  to  read  more  carefully  the  old  theological  writers 
he  replied  that  he  knew  beforehand  all  they  had  to  say. 

The  custom  in  the  seminary  of  calling  for  essays  from  the  stu- 
dents led  to  Brooks's  expression  of  himself  on  various  contro- 
verted points.  These  papers  still  exist.  They  may  not  indicate 
his  final  judgment  in  all  cases  and  yet  there  is  no  evidence  in  his 
later  work  of  any  material  change.  What  he  saw  he  saw  clearly. 
He  had  difficulties  with  infant  baptism  which  were  not  at  once 
overcome.  In  an  essay  on  the  question  why  Christianity  should 
not  have  taken  a  stronger  hold  on  the  world,  his  answer  is  that 
it  has  done  all  that  could  have  been  expected  from  it,  confirming 
its  divine  origin  and  giving  promise  of  a  great  future.  In  discuss- 
ing the  creeds  he  meets  the  objection  that  they  fetter  the  intellect 
and  hinder  mental  ability  and  progress.  He  thinks  they  have 
been  abused  by  a  kind  of  intellectual  idolatry  among  the  cold 


94  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

intellectual  races  of  the  North,  as  sensual  image- worship  has  been 
among  the  Southern  races.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  presen- 
tation of  truth  in  clear  and  sharply  defined  propositions,  as  in  a 
creed,  has  a  value  for  the  mind  in  its  first  activity.  It  satisfies  a 
certain  human  natural  desire  for  clearness,  and  overcomes  the 
natural  distrust  of  vagueness.  "Without  the  creed  each  man 
must  have  the  original  force  in  himself  to  select  and  build  his  own 
position,  deriving  no  help  from  others'  previous  endeavors,  with 
no  historical  ground  to  build  upon  and  no  historical  support  to 
look  to.  It  is  demanding  of  ordinary  minds  an  originality  which 
we  have  no  right  to  presuppose."  But  even  granting  that  men 
had  this  ability,  yet  the  rejection  of  the  creeds  "is  taking  out  of 
truth  the  social  elements  that  God  in  setting  up  his  Church  in- 
fused so  strongly  in  it." 

•  The  most  liberal  Christianity  among  us, — practically  what 
have  we  seen  its  rejection  of  formal  confessions  of  faith  amount 
to  ?  Its  masses — its  men  that  correspond  to  those  who  in  the  style 
of  much-abused  servility  give  in  their  matter-of-course  assent  to 
old  systems  of  doctrine — have  simply  rejected  that  assent,  to  say, 
as  servilely  and  with  quite  as  little  candid  judgment,  'I  believe 
in  this  or  that  preacher  or  divine.'  Servility  has  been  trans- 
ferred from  systems  to  individuals,  and  liberality  has  but  bound 
the  new  freeman  in  a  close  and  more  unquestioning  adhe- 
rence to  his  sect  or  some  traditional  leader  of  that  sect." 

In  another  essay  he  finds  that  the  Thirty- Nine  Articles  revolve 
around  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  as  their  central 
theme,  and  that  errors  which  the  Articles  condemn  spring  from 
their  denial  of  this  central  conviction.  The  Articles  are  not  a 
string  of  fragmentary  utterances,  but  are  grouped  into  unity  by 
a  great  common  belief.  He  studied  the  deeper  issues  of  the  Paul- 
ine theology, — the  distinction  between  gospel  and  law, — asking 
why  it  was  that  Jewish  and  Christian  Churches  should  be  tempted 
by  the  shallowness  of  the  Pelagian  heresy.  He  writes  on  the  pro- 
pitiatory sacrifice  of  Christ,  taking  for  a  text  the  words  of  Bishop 
Butler  and  confirming  their  truth:  "By  the  general  prevalence 
of  propitiatory  sacrifices  over  the  heathen  world,  the  notion  of 
repentance  alone  being  sufficient  to  expiate  guilt  appears  to  be 
contrary  to  the  general  use  of  mankind." 

He  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  the  principles  of  Christian 


ORDINATION  95 

theology  must  in  their  origin  have  struck  their  roots  in  the 
life  and  confession  of  humanity,  uncontrolled  by  an  external 
conventional  authority.  Not  only  in  regard  to  the  idea  of  sacri- 
fice, but  of  the  doctrines  of  the  fall  and  of  the  incarnation,  does 
it  hold  true  that  they  were  believed  by  the  race  of  man;  and 
especially  was  the  Incarnation — the  union  of  God  with  man  in 
some  divine-human  being  —  longed  for  and  earnestly  desired, 
even  anticipated  in  crude  ways  in  the  heathen  world.  As  such, 
these  doctrines  form  part  of  the  necessary  experience  of  man; 
they  reveal  the  characteristic  essence  of  the  human  soul;  they 
are  not  badges  of  bondage,  but  the  conditions  of  human  freedom, 
by  which  the  race  has  risen  to  the  realization  of  its  divine  heritage. 

All  these  theological  essays  show  a  conservative  tendency  of 
mind ;  they  reveal  study  and  were  carefully  written ;  but  although 
conservative  they  disclose  an  independent  and  original  charac- 
ter; the  conclusions  are  his  own  and  not  adopted  to  please  his 
teachers.  What  most  impresses  one  is  the  capacity  and  the 
character  of  the  scholar.  Especially  is  this  scholarly  habit 
manifest  in  an  essay  on  the  New  Testament  Greek,  and  in  an- 
other on  the  prevalence  of  the  Greek  language  in  the  time  of 
Christ.  He  made  an  elaborate  study  of  the  Fourth  Eclogue  of 
Virgil,  as  a  prophecy  of  the  Incarnation. 

There  is  in  the  note-books  a  somewhat  curious  and  vague 
statement  as  to  how  Brooks  looked  upon  much  of  the  current 
religious  thought  and  expression  to  which  he  submitted.  It 
was  written  during  his  second  year  at  the  seminary,  earlier  than 
many  of  the  essays  alluded  to,  before  his  outlook  had  been  en- 
larged by  further  study.  But  it  is  a  characteristic  passage,  in 
that  it  contains  a  prophecy  or  anticipation  of  his  future  work : 

"  These  things  may  be  true  or  false  that  we  are  saying  and 
believing  every  day  about  the  daily  points  that  are  always  coming 
up  for  us  to  think  or  speak  about.  We  cannot  but  fear  that  very 
many  of  them  are  very  far  indeed  from  truth ;  but  still  it  is  well 
for  us  to  believe  them,  and  to  say  them,  too,  for  it  is  these  words 
and  faith  that  really  make  a  life  for  us  which  otherwise  we  could 
not  have.  It  will  not  do  to  turn  our  whole  existence  into  a  pru- 
dent suspense.  We  must  be  ready  to  say  promptly  and  firmly, 
1  Yes,  that  is  right  and  that  is  wrong,  this  is  wise  and  that  is  fool- 
ish, and  this  is  strong  and  that  is  weak.'  Then,  when  we  reach 
the  end  of  each  stage  of  our  journey  and  look  curiously  back  to  see 
what  sort  of  work  we  have  made  of  it,  we  shall  see  something 


9b  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

more  than  a  bare,  broad,  safe  plain.  There  will  be  marks  of  our 
labor  all  over  it,  a  well  dug  here,  a  fort  raised  there,  a  garden 
or  two  planted,  and  a  forest  or  two  cleared  away, — much  work 
clumsily,  no  doubt,  and  rudely  done,  perhaps  some  few  trees 
felled  that  should  have  been  left  standing,  and  some  few  wells 
dug  where  a  wiser  head  might  have  told  us  there  was  no  water 
to  be  had;  but  on  the  whole,  the  field  is  better  for  our  toil,  it 
will  be  easier  for  future  travellers ;  and  we  too  are  better  for  it, 
and  the  rest  of  our  journey  will  be  easier  to  us  for  the  health  and 
muscle  that  this  early  work  has  given  us." 

The  word  "believe"  is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  assent.  If 
we  may  interpret  a  passage  like  this,  somewhat  vague  and  tenta- 
tive, it  might  be  said  that  he  appears  as  acquiescing  in  many 
theological  statements  of  whose  meaning  he  was  not  certain; 
he  was  comparing  the  Church  to  some  vast  mansion  with  its 
surrounding  estate,  built  in  generations  long  gone  by,  and  adapted 
for  use  and  the  needs  of  a  later  age.  But  it  was  better  to  dwell 
in  it  as  it  was  than  to  destroy  and  rebuild  from  the  founda- 
tions. "It  will  not  do  to  turn  our  whole  being,"  he  writes,  "into 
a  prudent  suspense,  for  in  the  meantime  we  should  be  home- 
less and  without  the  things  that  make  for  life.  But  it  is  pos- 
sible in  this  mansion,  or  the  estate  where  it  is  planted,  to  make 
some  changes  or  improvements,  adapting  it  to  the  demands 
of  a  larger  and  fuller  life." 

It  was  the  crowning  glory  of  the  Evangelical  school  that  it 
was  the  first  to  recognize  the  claim  of  foreign  missions.  The  mis- 
sionary spirit  prevailed  among  the  students  of  the  Virginia 
Seminary  to  an  extent  unequalled  elsewhere  in  the  Episcopal 
Church.  Since  1835  its  graduates  began  to  work  in  foreign 
fields,  till  fifty-five  years  later  there  were  enrolled  over  thirty 
missionaries.  Each  year  witnessed  the  enthusiasm  of  the  stu- 
dents as  they  bade  farewell  to  classmates.  On  these  occasions, 
Phillips  Brooks  was  taking  lessons  in  the  power  of  foreign 
missions  to  test  the  reality  of  the  life  and  faith  of  the  Church. 
If  the  call  had  come  to  him,  it  would  have  satisfied  the  aspirations 
of  his  mother,  who  never  wearied  of  holding  up  to  her  children 
the  examples  of  great  missionaries  as  the  noblest  the  world 
could  offer.  But  the  Spirit  called  him  to  another  work,  where 
heroism  and  self-sacrifice  could  be  illustrated  as  well  as  in  a 
foreign  land. 


ORDINATION  97 

There  were  other  ways  in  which  the  theological  seminary  in 
Virginia  exercised  upon  Brooks  a  strong  and  beneficent  influence. 
He  found  himself  on  his  arrival  there  plunged  into  a  fervent 
religious  atmosphere  whose  warmth  of  devotion  was  in  contrast 
with  the  colder  reserve  of  New  England.  He  has  left  a  record 
of  his  first  impression  and  the  inference  he  drew  for  his  guidance : 

"  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  experience  of  a  divinity  school. 
I  had  come  from  a  college  where  men  studied  hard,  but  said 
nothing  about  faith.  I  had  never  been  at  a  prayer-meeting  in 
i,  -my  life.  The  first  place  I  was  taken  to  at  the  seminary  was  the 
prayer-meeting;  and  never  shall  I  lose  the  impression  of  the 
devoutness  with  which  these  men  prayed  and  exhorted  one 
another.  Their  whole  souls  seemed  exalted  and  their  natures 
were  on  fire.  I  sat  bewildered  and  ashamed  and  went  away 
depressed.  On  the  next  day,  I  met  some  of  those  men  at  a 
,  Greek  recitation.  It  would  be  little  to  say  of  some  of  the  de- 
'  voutest  of  them  that  they  had  not  learned  their  lessons.  Their 
whole  way  showed  that  they  never  learned  their  lessons;  that 
they  had  not  got  hold  of  the  first  principles  of  hard,  faithful, 
conscientious  study.  The  boiler  had  no  connection  with  the 
engine.  The  devotion  did  not  touch  the  work  which  then  and 
there  was  the  work,  and  the  only  work,  for  them  to  do.  By  and 
by,  I  found  something  of  where  the  steam  did  escape  to.  A 
sort  of  amateur  preaching  was  much  in  vogue  among  us.  We 
were  in  haste  to  be  at  what  we  called  our  work.  A  feeble  twi- 
light of  the  coming  ministry  we  lived  in.  The  people  in  the 
neighborhood  dubbed  us  parsonettes."  1 

\y**  To  combine  thorough  intellectual  culture  with  the  intensity 
of  religious  devotion  became  from  this  time  his  ideal.  The 
prayer-meeting  helped  to  overcome  the  reserve  which,  however 
invincible  in  his  relation  with  individuals,  disappeared  when  he 
entered  the  pulpit.  One  of  his  fellow-students  bears  this  testi- 
mony to  his  power  of  extemporaneous  prayer : 

"  Another,  more  sacred,  thought  of  him  goes  back  to  the  class 
prayer-meeting,  held  each  week  in  one  of  our  rooms.  We  had 
never  heard  such  prayers,  so  fervent,  trustful,  simple,  so  full  of 
what  we  should  not  have  guessed  was  in  him  till  he  testified 
beside  us  on  his  knees.  He  had  learned  a  lesson  which  the  books 
could  not  teach,  worth  more  to  him  and  to  those  he  knelt  with, 
then  and  afterwards,  than  the  cultured  scholarship  he  brought 

i  Lectures  on  Preaching,  p.  44. 
7 


98  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

from  Harvard,  or  the  systematic  theology  that  Alexandria  gave 
us." 

The  endowment  which  we  call  feeling  had  come  to  Phillips 
Brooks  by  inheritance  in  an  extraordinary  degree;  a  talent 
improved,  but  originally  given  as  by  free  grace,  as  to  the  man 
that  had  already  ten  talents.  Only  one  who  has  had  the  privilege 
of  poring  over  his  mother's  letters  can  realize  how  rich  and 
wonderful  was  the  gift  she  had  transmitted.  His  father  wrote 
to  him  when  he  had  important  news  to  communicate.  But  the 
mother  wrote  when  her  heart  was  full  of  a  mother's  love  which 
knows  no  bound.  She  longed  for  him,  she  thought  of  him  every 
hour  and  minute  of  the  day,  she  counted  the  weeks  and  the  days 
till  she  should  see  him;  sometimes  she  was  so  impatient  that 
she  feared  that  she  could  not  wait  for  his  coming,  but  must 
fly  to  him.  It  was  this  element  in  Phillips  Brooks  that  formed 
one  large  constituent  of  his  strength.  Those  who  knew  him 
knew  that  his  capacity  for  deep  feeling  was  like  the  ocean  in  its 
majesty;  that  ideas,  experiences,  the  forces  of  life,  which  ap- 
pealed to  him,  roused  him  as  a  whirlwind,  and  feeling  became  a 
torment  until  it  had  found  expression. 

The  cognitive  power  of  feeling  was  one  of  the  truths  borne  in 
on  him  from  his  arrival  at  the  seminary.  He  enters  the  state- 
ment in  his  earliest  note-book — as  if  he  had  discovered  some  new 
power  of  determining  his  growth — that  "feeling  is  a  teacher." 
But  the  intellectual  faculties  were  on  the  whole  in  the  ascendant 
in  these  earlier  years,  and  he  frequently  alludes  to  problems 
which  he  has  not  solved.  What  he  wants  is  some  principle  of 
unity;  he  is  still  haunted  with  the  unpossessed  secret  process 
by  which  intellect  and  feeling  shall  be  transmuted  into  fuel  for 
the  will.  He  has  visions  of  Christ  in  some  moment  of  transfig- 
uration, and  would  fain  penetrate  more  closely  into  the  strange, 
bewildering  mystery  of  His  power. 

"  There  is  the  old  city  child's  difficulty  in  thinking  of  his  city 
as  a  whole.  He  knows  this  street  and  that  street,  but  never 
recognizes  the  organic  town  standing  surrounded  by  others  like  it, 
acting  as  an  individual  with  concrete  purposes  and  thoughts.  I 
do  not  know  that  other  children  have  this  difficulty,  but  it  always 
troubled  me.  And  there  is  something  of  the  same  kind,  I  think, 
to  most  of  the  minds  new  born  into  the  world  of  thought  when 
they  try  to  conceive  of  each  man's  separate  life." 


ORDINATION  99 

"  As  behind  the  sun,  and  clouds,  and  silent  stars,  lies  the  great 
eternity  of  space,  so  behind  this  man's  or  that  man's  living,  or 
thinking,  or  enjoying,  lies  the  immensity  of  life,  that  we  try  to 
measure  by  these  planets  that  God  has  stationed  in  it." 

"  There  is  one  magic  word  somewhere,  if  we  can  find  it,  with 
which  we  can  tame  these  truths,  as  the  old  magicians  subdued  the 
spirits  to  their  will.  Called  by  that  word  they  come  to  our  con- 
fessional and  tell  their  secrets.  The  power  that  was  in  them 
passes  into  us,  and  we  become  their  masters,  as  they  once  were 
ours.  They  go  to  do  our  bidding  in  humility,  and  own  our  sov- 
ereignty now  by  that  magic  word." 

"  I  could  not  but  be  struck  to-day  in  our  Virgil  class  with  the 
contrast  of  the  heaven  of  the  JEneid  with  the  heaven  of  the  Re- 
velation. 'Solemque  suum,  sua  sidera  norunt,'  says  the  poet 
{Mneid,  vi.,  641).  '  And  the  city  hath  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither 
of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  did  lighten 
it  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof  (Rev.  xxi.,  23).  So  speaks 
the  Evangelist  of  what  he  saw  on  the  Lord's  Day  in  Patmos. 
Once  get  the  Bible  idea  of  Deity  and  we  feel  that  it  needs  some- 
thing more  than  a  new  earth  to  make  a  heaven." 

He  was  now  anticipating  with  a  mingled  sense  of  joy  and  of  fear 
the  work  he  was  soon  to  begin.  Visions  of  the  profession  of  a 
teacher  seem  to  have  faded  away  for  the  moment.  Life  was 
rich  in  its  promise,  with  the  feeling  of  his  days  before  him ;  but 
there  is  no  trace  of  any  sense  of  superiority,  no  consciousness 
of  gifts  that  raised  him  above  other  men,  or  expectation  of  dis- 
tinction which  if  not  satisfied  would  beget  the  soreness  of  dis- 
appointed ambition.  His  outlook  was  in  humility  of  spirit. 
There  was  a  consciousness  of  inward  harmony  which  began  to 
be  reflected  in  the  symmetry  of  his  person.  The  happiness 
within  was  stamped  upon  the  features,  in  place  of  a  certain 
anxious  look  which  some  of  the  early  photographs  display. 
.  'He  was  looking  forward  to  his  own  marriage  as  he  chronicles 
the  marriages  of  his  friends,  but  as  yet  in  a  general  way.  He 
felt  no  call  to  a  celibate  life.  He  wrote  love  songs  and  was 
cherishing  an  ideal  dream  of  human  love,  most  rare  and  sacred. 
To  one  of  his  friends  who  asked  him  for  the  conditions  he 
would  make,  he  replied,  in  a  humorous  way,  that  in  the  first 
place  she  must  be  small;  in  the  second  place  she  must  be  beau- 
tiful; in  the  third  place  she  must  not  know  too  much,  and  he 


ioo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

added  in  the  fourth  place,  as  if  an  afterthought,  she  must  of 
course  be  good.  He  was  rather  exigent  in  his  demand  for  per- 
sonal beauty  of  form  and  figure,  as  though  an  injury  had  been 
done  him  where  it  was  wanting.  His  letters  contain  many 
allusions  of  this  kind  after  the  manner  of  all  young  men.  This 
is  a  specimen: 

"  I  received  the  other  day  an  invitation  to  dinner  from  one  of  the 
nabobs  of  Alexandria,  which,  as  I  afterwards  found,  I  owed  en- 
tirely to  his  having  been  rather  intimate  with  Uncle  Brooks  and 
his  family  when  he  was  at  college  in  Cambridge  thirty  years  ago. 
Of  course  I  went,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  time.  So  you  see  our 
rich  relations  do  us  some  little  good  sometimes  after  all.  He 
lives  in  great  style,  keeps  a  grand  house,  sets  a  splendid  table, 
and  has  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  (age  about  eighteen  years  one 
month,  I  should  say)  for  a  daughter  that  I  ever  saw.  She  is 
the  prettiest  girl  I  have  seen  in  Virginia,  and  that  is  n't  saying 
much.  But  she  is  really  quite  stunning — dark  hair  and  eyes, 
fine  complexion,  dresses  tastily,  lively,  full  of  fun,  and  cordial  on 
first  acquaintance,  as  all  Southern  ladies  are." 

For  some  time  there  had  been  rumors  of  possible  calls  to  par- 
ishes. His  old  friend  and  pastor  Dr.  Vinton,  who  had  become 
rector  of  the  new  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Philadelphia,  had 
expressed  a  wish  that  Brooks  should  become  his  assistant.  The 
opening  seemed  attractive,  the  church  ranked  among  the  strong- 
est and  most  influential  in  the  city,  and  the  association  with  Dr. 
Vinton  was  alluring.  Other  positions  of  a  similar  kind  had  been 
mentioned.  He  was  weighing  the  question  whether  it  was  better 
to  begin  as  an  assistant  in  a  large  parish,  or  to  strike  forth  inde- 
pendently and  from  the  start  assume  complete  responsibility. 
It  was  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  March,  1859,  that  two  strangers 
appeared  in  the  little  chapel  of  the  Sharon  Mission,  some  three 
miles  from  the  Seminary,  where  Brooks  was  officiating  as  a  lay- 
reader  and  preaching  extemporaneous  sermons.  Whether  he 
had  won  any  recognition  as  a  preacher  by  these  early  efforts  is 
uncertain;  the  testimony  seems  to  vary.  After  the  services  on 
this  Sunday  afternoon  were  over,  the  two  strangers  came  for- 
ward and  gave  him  the  call  to  become  the  rector  of  the  Church 
of  the  Advent  in  Philadelphia. 

He  was  now  for  the  second  time  confronting  the  entrance  upon 
life,  and  the  old  memory  of  his  failure  in  Boston  was  before  him. 


ORDINATION  101 

If  allusion  to  this  incident  were  omitted  the  narrative  would  be 
incomplete.  At  this  time  the  sensitiveness  of  his  constitution  was 
so  great  that  he  was  almost  made  ill.  He  gave  up  his  work  on 
the  following  Monday ;  on  Tuesday  he  complained  of  headache 
and  of  the  weather,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  week  he  was  wretched. 
In  one  of  his  letters  he  says,  "I  have  n't  passed  such  a  week  for 
three  years  " ;  and  again,  "  I  have  just  been  driven  crazy  this  last 
week  between  a  need  of  thinking  and  these  recitations  that  do  n't 
leave  a  minute  to  think  in."  Such  extreme  susceptibility,  fol- 
lowed by  nervous  exhaustion,  may  seem  extraordinary,  in  con- 
trast with  his  heroic  powers  of  endurance  in  later  years,  when  no 
amount  of  excitement  seemed  to  tell  on  his  vigorous  frame. 
But  it  was  not  so  in  the  earlier  years.  After  his  first  day's  expe- 
rience as  an  usher  in  the  Latin  School,  he  attempted,  as  he  told 
a  friend,  to  take  a  walk,  but  found  himself  so  exhausted  after  a 
few  minutes  that  he  was  unable  to  continue  it.  It  may  be  that 
in  this  peculiarity  of  his  physical  make-up  lay  one  of  the  condi- 
tions of  his  power. 

The  call  to  Philadelphia  created  as  much  excitement  in  the 
quiet  household  in  Boston.  It  was  a  family  affair,  in  which  his 
parents  and  brothers  shared  as  by  divine  right.  The  solidarity 
of  the  family  life  found  expression  in  the  numerous  letters  that 
came  and  went.  There  were  conditions  to  be  considered:  Dr. 
Vinton's  wishes  in  the  matter,  the  will  of  the  bishop  of  Massachu- 
setts, whose  consent  must  be  gained.  One  thing  seems  to  have 
been  taken  for  granted,  that  he  would  not  return  to  Massachusetts 
to  begin  his  ministry.  There  is  a  tone  of  excitement  and  con- 
fusion in  the  letters ;  the  dread  of  making  a  mistake  is  apparent. 
It  seems  a  momentous  task  at  the  age  of  twenty-three  to  assume 
the  complete  charge  of  a  church.  The  issue  was  finally  decided 
by  a  compromise ;  he  declined  to  accept  the  formal  call  to  become 
the  rector,  but  agreed  to  officiate  for  three  months;  when  that 
time  had  expired  the  vestry  were  to  be  at  liberty  to  give  him  a 
permanent  call,  or  he  was  at  liberty  to  withdraw.  So  the  issue 
of  his  life  was  decided.  He  had  gone  to  the  theological  school  as 
an  experiment,  uncertain  what  the  result  would  be.  These  years 
of  quiet  and  seclusion  had  done  their  work  and  had  resolved  the 
tentative  mood  into  a  glowing  enthusiasm  for  the  work  to  which 
he  now  believed  himself  to  be  called.     How  he  regarded  the 


io2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

prospect  is  told  in  a  letter  to  his  brother,  where  he  seems  to  de- 
fend himself  against  anything  like  indifference,  or  suspicion  that 
he  was  acting  in  a  perfunctory  way : 

"Theological  Seminary,  Thursday  evening,  March  17,  1859. 

".  .  .  As  to  Advent,  let  me  be  frank.  I  feel,  I  believe,  more 
fully  than  you  can  the  responsibility  and  labor  of  the  place.  I 
know,  too,  more  deeply  than  you  can  my  own  deficiencies,  and  yet 
I  have  engaged  to  go  there,  at  least  for  a  temporary  supply.  One 
thing  I  am  sure  of, — it  was  not  accepted  from  any  ambitious 
desire  of  occupying  a  conspicuous  or  responsible  place.  I  am 
going  honestly,  as  I  believe,  in  a  sincere  feeling  that  I  ought  to  go, 
in  an  earnest  conviction  that  there  is  work  there  to  be  done,  and 
that  by  a  strength  above  my  own  I  shall  be  helped  to  do  it.  The 
ministry  has  been  growing  a  new  thing  to  me  this  year ;  and  most 
of  all  this  direct  presentation  of  a  field  of  work  has,  I  believe,  sent 
me  outside  of  myself  to  look  for  direction  and  for  strength  where 
it  is  promised  to  us  all.  I  believe  I  am  going  at  last  "in  humility 
to  tell  the  Bible  story  to  those  people.  I  have  told  them  that 
that  story  was  all  I  had  to  bring,  in  all  its  simplicity  and  truth, 
and  I  hope  to  find  strength  to  tell  it  plainly  and  distinctly  at 
least.  In  all  this  I  have  weighed  the  solid  facts.  From  what 
experience  I  have  had,  I  do  not  feel  afraid  of  two  plain  sermons 
in  a  week.  I  have  gained  considerable  facility  in  extempore 
speaking,  and  shall  do  that  much.  The  other  work,  visiting,  etc., 
I  am  unused  to,  but  do  not  look  forward  to  with  dread.  They 
are  kind  and  simple  people,  and  ready  and  anxious  to  make  their 
minister's  life  a  pleasant  one." 

It  was  decided  he  should  begin  his  rectorship  of  the  Church  of 
the  Advent  on  the  second  Sunday  of  July,  1859.  But  as  this 
would  deprive  him  of  a  vacation  after  a  hard  year  of  labor,  he 
asked  for  leave  of  absence  in  order  to  have  a  month  at  home  to 
recuperate.  And  this  home-coming  meant  much  to  him.  He 
had  retrieved  the  failure  of  three  years  before,  when  the  world 
looked  blank  to  him,  without  opening  or  opportunity.  He  took 
a  humble  view  of  it  all,  for  the  lesson  in  humility  had  penetrated 
the  recesses  of  his  spirit.  On  his  journey  he  stopped  by  the  way 
at  Philadelphia,  where  he  met  the  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the 
Advent  and  surveyed  the  scene  of  his  future  labors.  While  he 
was  in  Boston  he  seems  to  have  been  diligent  in  attending  reli- 
gious services,  dividing  his  time  with  the  Athenaeum  and  the  new 
books. 


ORDINATION 

S  The  great  event  after  his  return  was  the  ordination  to  the 
diaconate.  There  were  many  visitors  to  the  "Hill"  in  view  of 
the  sacred  festivities  impending,  among  them  his  own  father, 
who  with  his  eye  for  men  and  affairs  enjoyed  all  that  came  under 
his  observation.  He  writes  home  that  his  father  made  a  fine 
impression.  Thursday,  June  30,  was  the  Commencement  Day, 
when,  in  the  presence  of  his  future  church  warden,  his  father,  the 
large  audience,  and  the  ecclesiastical  dignitaries,  he  delivered 
his  thesis  on  "The  Centralizing  Power  of  the  Gospel."  The 
next  day,  Friday,  was  Ordination  Day,  ushered  in  with  a  prayer- 
meeting.  Then  came  Bishop  Meade  of  Virginia.  At  nine  o'clock 
was  the  interview  appointed  when  the  young  candidate  for 
orders  should  hear  what  the  bishop  had  to  say  to  him.  Bishop 
Meade  was  held  in  high  reverence  in  Virginia  as  the  founder  of  the 
theological  seminary,  a  preacher  as  well  as  administrator,  and  a 
leader  in  the  counsels  of  the  Evangelical  school  in  the  church. 
The  services  in  the  chapel  began  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  ser- 
mon was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gibson  of  Petersburg,  Va. 
The  next  day  he  started  for  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  to  pay  a 
visit  to  his  friend  the  Rev.  A.  M.  Randolph  (now  the  bishop 
of  Southern  Virginia),  who  had  offered  him  his  pulpit  for  the 
following  Sunday.  Bishop  Randolph  has  contributed  this 
account  of  the  memorable  day: 

"  In  thinking  of  my  impression  of  the  two  sermons  and  of  the 
way  they  were  spoken,  and  also  of  the  impression  made  upon  the 
many  intelligent  people  who  listened  to  them,  I  am  reminded 
of  these  characteristics  of  his  preaching,  which  all  who  ever 
heard  him  will  recognize, — a  singular  absence  of  self-conscious- 
ness, a  spontaneity  of  beautiful  thinking,  clothed  in  pure  English 
words,  a  joy  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  a  victorious  mastery  of 
the  truth  he  was  telling,  combined  with  humility  and  reverence 
and  love  for  the  congregation.  I  have  heard  him  often  since, 
and  the  impression  was  always  the  same." 

The  story  of  the  ordination  and  of  the  last  week  at  the  theo- 
logical seminary  may  fitly  close  with  a  letter  from  his  father, 
written  at  Philadelphia,  where  he  stopped  on  his  journey  home 
and  while  the  scene  was  still  vivid  which  had  so  deeply  moved 
him: 


io4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"Philadelphia,  Sunday  evening,  July  3,  1859. 

"...  I  can  hardly  realize  the  events  of  the  past  week. 
They  have  been  too  great  and  too  delightful  to  my  feelings, 
Phillips,  to  be  yet  fully  realized.  I  do  thank  God  for  the  many 
things  I  have  seen  and  heard,  and  for  you,  my  dear  son,  that 
you  have  given  your  friends  such  good  impressions  as  were  ex- 
pressed to  me  at  the  seminary  Depend  upon  it,  my  heart  has 
been  gladdened  and  made  happy  beyond  what  I  dare  express  or 
can  express.  I  only  wish  your  anxious  and  loving  mother  could 
have  been  with  me  and  seen  all  I  did,  also.  At  times  I  have 
thought  it  too  much  to  realize.  You  perhaps  little  thought  when 
you  were  having  that  last  meeting  in  Strong's  room,  and  the 
music  of  your  voices  sounded  in  my  ears  so  sweetly,  I  was  in 
spirit  with  you.  And  to-day,  whih  kneeling  at  the  chancel  rail 
where  you  are  to  assist  in  dispersing  the  elements  of  the  com- 
munion, how  full  my  heart  was,  and  how  earnestly  I  prayed  that 
you  might  have  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  showered  upon  you, 
to  be  faithful  and  devoted  in  all  your  great  and  responsible 
duties  in  that  sacred  place.  This  last  week  I  shall  never  forget. 
That  ordination  day  will  remain  foremost  among  all  the  scenes 
of  my  future  life." 

And  so  the  period  of  his  preparation  ends.  The  long  stretch 
of  his  life  was  before  him,  the  seemingly  endless  years.  It  is  a 
characteristic  of  the  young  that  they  dwell  upon  death  and  its 
meaning,  more  than  those  who  approach  old  age,  or  are  bearing 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  He  was  wont  at  this  time  to 
ponder  upon  the  awful  secret,  as  throwing  light  upon  the  meaning 
of  life.  But  he  made  no  effort  to  bring  before  his  imagination 
the  intervening  years.  It  was  of  these,  however,  that  his  father 
and  mother  were  thinking,  and  more  particularly  his  mother, 
as  she  forecast  the  future  in  the  anxiety  of  her  love.  Her  one 
prayer  for  him  was  that  he  should  lead  the  rest  of  his  life  according 
to  this  beginning.  It  is  not  possible  for  the  young  to  look  at 
things  from  the  point  of  view  of  those  who  are  older.  It  may 
have  been  so  with  him.  And  yet  the  refrain  of  the  letters  his 
mother  wrote  must  have  lingered  in  his  mind, — the  earnest  in- 
vocation to  be  faithful  to  the  end  in  order  that  he  might  receive 
at  last  the  crown  of  rejoicing  before  God:  "Be  thou  faithful  unto 
death,  and  I  will  give  thee  the  crown  of  life." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

1859-1862. 

FIRST  TWO  YEARS  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  CHURCH  OF  THE 
ADVENT.  PHILADELPHIA.  EARLY  RECOGNITION  OF 
HIS  POWER  AS  A  PREACHER.  EXTRACTS  FROM  LET- 
TERS AND  NOTE-BOOKS.  BEGINNING  OF  THE  CIVIL 
WAR.  CALL  TO  CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY  IN 
PHILADELPHIA. 

\r  Phillips  Brooks  began  his  ministry  July  10,  1859,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-three,  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Philadelphia. 
It  was  not  what  is  called  a  prominent  church  in  the  city;  its 
seating  capacity  was  five  hundred  and  it  numbered  one  hundred 
and  fifty  communicants.  The  church  was  situated  on  the  corner 
of  York  Avenue  and  Button  wood  Street,  and  is  still  standing, 
though  its  interior  arrangements  have  been  modified.  He  took 
rooms  in  the  neighborhood  at  701  Vine  Street.  His  first  sermon 
was  on  the  "  Law  of  the  House."  (Ezek.  xliii.,  12.)  His  advent  to 
the  city  was  chronicled  in  the  newspapers,  with  an  account  of  his 
sermon,  and  with  flattering  allusions  to  his  appearance  and 
ability.  He  began  his  work  with  great  zeal,  writing  two  ser- 
mons a  week,  and  visiting  diligently  his  congregation.  He  con- 
stantly remarks  on  the  kindness  of  the  people.  But  he  was 
lonely  and  somewhat  depressed.  When  alluding  to  these  first 
Sundays  at  the  Advent,  many  years  afterward,  he  recalled  a 
circumstance  of  which  there  is  no  hint  in  his  letters  at  the  time. 
To  a  clergyman  who  humorously  complained  that  he  was  drawing 
away  his  congregation,  as  of  all  the  other  churches  in  Boston,  he 
replied,  "We  all  of  us  have  to  go  through  this."  He  then  went 
on  to  say  that  he  had  engaged  to  supply  the  Church  of  the  Ad- 
vent for  three  months,  leaving  them  at  liberty  to  call  him  as  rec- 
tor at  the  expiration  of  this  time.  But  one  Sunday  evening,  as  he 
was  going  home  from  church  with  one  of  the  vestrymen,  he  said 

!°5 


io6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

to  him  that  perhaps  he  had  better  leave  at  once  and  not  wait 
till  the  three  months  were  out.  All  that  his  companion  could 
say  in  reply  was,  "As  long  as  you  have  begun,  you  had  better 
stay  out  the  time  for  which  you  were  hired." 

But  the  young  minister  was  really  succeeding,  as  is  seen  by  his 
letters.  His  church  was  full  at  the  evening  service ;  there  was  an 
increasing  demand  for  pews;  he  liked  the  people  and  it  soon 
became  evident  that  they  wanted  him  to  remain.  In  October 
(1859),  the  three  months  of  probation  having  expired,  he  became 
the  permanent  rector.  The  attendance  at  the  services  had  con- 
tinued to  grow,  and  he  speaks  of  the  church  as  crowded.  In  the 
early  weeks  of  October  he  preached  at  the  large  church  of  the 
Holy  Trinity,  taking  Dr.  Vinton's  place.  He  mentions  in  his 
letters  rather  dreading  the  preaching  in  the  big  church  and  "fill- 
ing the  great  man's  place,"  but  thought  he  "  got  through  it  pretty 
well."  His  reputation  had  not  by  November,  at  least,  extended 
throughout  the  city.  In  making  an  exchange  he  experienced 
mortification  arising  from  the  lack  of  pulpit  fame.  It  was  at 
the  Church  of  our  Saviour,  in  West  Philadelphia,  as  he  related  the 
incident,  that  he  officiated  in  the  morning  of  Sunday,  November 
27.  He  was  about  to  close  the  service  from  the  chancel  when  he 
noticed  a  member  of  the  congregation  approaching  through  the 
main  aisle  with  some  message  for  him.  And  the  message  was 
this:  Was  he  to  preach  again  at  the  evening  service?  When 
the  messenger  was  told  that  the  exchange  was  only  for  the  morn- 
ing, he  replied,  "Will  you  please  give  notice  that  the  rector  him- 
self will  preach  in  the  evening?" 

Among  his  experiences  was  preaching  for  the  first  time  in  the 
presence  of  Dr.  Vinton,  whom  he  looked  up  to  with  reverence,  as 
the  greatest  preacher  in  the  Church.  Dr.  Vinton's  comment 
was:  "He  preaches  better  sermons  than  I  did  at  his  age,  or  have 
ever  done  since."  Dr.  Vinton  pronounced  him  an  "orator,"  and 
thought  that  a  great  part  of  his  power  lay  in  his  voice. 

As  he  followed  political  affairs,  he  was  greatly  moved  by  the 
death  of  John  Brown,  enclosing  in  his  diary  with  a  border  of  black 
lines  these  words:  "  Friday,  December  2,  1859,  10.15  a.m.,  John 
Brown  hung  at  Charlestown,  Va."  The  execution  took  place 
under  the  administration  of  Governor  Wise  of  Virginia,  whose 
son  was  a  friend  of  Brooks,  and  was  at  that  time  the  rector  of  a 


EARLY  MINISTRY  107 

Church  in  West  Philadelphia.     He  comments  on  this  event  in 
his  letters: 

"  December  3,  1859.  What  a  death  for  such  a  man.  It  makes 
me  mad  to  hear  the  way  some  of  our  Northern  conservatives  talk 
about  him.  I  believe  Governor  Wise  himself  does  him  more 
justice  than  they  do. 

"  As  to  his  being  crazy,  of  course  excessive  lack  of  prudence, 
judgment,  and  foresight,  which  every  one  admits  that  he  showed, 
is  craziness  in  its  very  definition,  and  so  every  rash  man  is  crazy; 
but  his  heroic  devotion  to  what  he  thought  was  right  is  surely  not 
to  be  confounded  with  the  craziness  that  he  showed  in  judging 
whether  it  was  really  right  and  best.  What  do  people  say  about 
it  all  in  Boston?  " 

"  December  9,1859.  Wise  took  tea  with  me  last  night,  and  for 
the  first  time  we  had  a  long  talk  about  Harper's  Ferry  troubles, 
John  Brown,  etc.  Of  course  we  did  n't  coincide,  but  it  gave  us 
both  a  chance  to  define  our  positions,  and  I  was  pleased  to  find 
him  not  quite  so  radical  as  I  had  thought.  He  is  drawing  great 
crowds  here,  and  preaching  splendid  sermons." 

His  father  took  alarm  at  the  tone  of  his  son's  comment;  per- 
haps he  had  misgivings  about  the  Phillips  blood.  He  had  already 
seen  enough  of  his  son  to  know  that  he  was  more  pronounced 
than  himself  in  his  opposition  to  slavery,  and  in  one  of  his  letters 
had  described  to  him  a  recent  meeting  in  Fanueuil  Hall,  where 
"your  friends  the  anti-slavers  mustered  in  force,  and  your  kins- 
man Wendell  Phillips  expressed  a  wish  that  the  prayer  '  God  save 
the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts '  should  be  changed  to  read, 
'God  damn  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts.'"  Now  he 
wrote  to  his  son  more  emphatically: 

"  I  see  you  allude  to  the  Harper's  Ferry  affair.  All  well  enough 
to  have  your  private  opinions  on  all  such  matters,  but  I  must  beg 
of  you  don't  carry  such  things  as  politics  into  the  pulpit.  Leave 
all  such  at  701.  .  .  .  Let  others  trumpet  the  exploits  and  vir- 
tues of  'old  Brown.'  " 

These  first  years  of  his  ministry  in  Philadelphia  were  full  of 
interest.  He  had  deep  satisfaction  and  joy  in  his  work;  it  was 
more  delightful  than  he  had  anticipated.  He  had  been  received 
by  his  congregation  with  open  hearts  and  hands.  His  diary  pre- 
sents an  attractive  picture.     His  mornings  were  given  to  study 


io8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

and  sermon-writing,  his  afternoons  to  visiting  his  parishioners. 
The  clergy  of  the  city  made  him  welcome.  He  enjoyed  the 
society  of  many  friends  in  Philadelphia  and  the  vicinity.  Rela- 
tions with  Dr.  Vinton  became  very  close.  Through  him,  he 
became  acquainted,  as  he  says,  with  the  "upper  ten  of  Phila- 
delphia," receiving  many  invitations  he  was  unable  to  accept. 
Among  his  new  friends  was  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell,  destined  to  em- 
inence as  a  man  of  letters.  One  of  his  closest  friends  was  Rev. 
Charles  D.  Cooper,  rector  of  St.  Philip's  Church,  a  man  of 
wealth  who  kept  open  house — a  rendezvous  for  clergy  of  kin- 
dred minds. 

In  the  midst  of  many  engagements  runs  the  constant  reference 
to  sermon-writing.  It  does  not  appear  as  an  easy  task)  he 
labored  over  his  sermons;  a  rainy  day  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  write.  He  complains  of  being  "terribly  tired"  after  a 
Sunday's  work.  Some  relief  was  found  in  the  habit  of  clerical 
exchanges  of  which  he  took  full  advantage.  CWhat  is  called 
"church  work"  was  then  almost  unknown,  and  there  was  but 
little  complexity  in  the  organization  of  a  parish;  the  sewing 
circle  and  the  Sunday-school  divided  the  labors  and  interests  of 
pastor  and  people.  There  was  of  course  the  standing  difficulty 
with  the  choir,  and  to  this  the  Church  of  the  Advent  was  no 
exception.  At  times,  Mr.  Brooks  grew  weary  with  the  incessant 
demands  of  the  endless  routine.     He  writes  to  a  friend: 

"The  everlasting  whirligig  of  visiting  and  sermon- writing  keeps 
up  its  revolutions;  no  weddings,  not  even  a  baptism  to  break 
the  monotony.  But  it  's  a  pleasant  life.  .  .  .  You  would 
have  been  amused  to  see  me  presiding  at  the  first  meeting  of  my 
sewing  circle  the  other  day,  to  choose  officers,  etc.  The  way 
women  won't  be  bound  by  parliamentary  rules  is  very  funny." 

The  ritual  of  the  church  was  also  simple  in  those  days,  nor 
had  the  movement  known  as  ritualism  yet  begun.  The  minister 
faced  the  congregation  in  the  reading  of  the  service,  the  boy 
choir  was  almost  unknown,  and  in  the  pulpit  it  was  the  prevailing 
custom  to  wear  the  black  Geneva  gown.  It  created  a  commotion 
when,  soon  after  the  new  rector  came,  the  "black  gowns  "were 
stolen  from  the  vestry.  It  did  not  then  occur  to  them  that  the 
surplice  might  be  used  as  a  substitute,  and  immediately  they 


EARLY  MINISTRY  109 

were  replaced.  The  Morning  and  the  Evening  Prayer  constituted 
the  Sunday  service,  with  the  administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
on  the  first  Sunday  of  the  month.  But  the  great  attraction 
was  the  sermon. 

Both  as  a  boy  and  as  a  man,  Brooks  attached  importance  to 
the  commemoration  of  birthdays  and  Thanksgiving  days.  It  was 
with  a  sense  of  regret  that  he  realized  the  time-honored  New 
England  Thanksgiving  Day  had  become  for  him  a  thing  of  the 
past.  His  first  commemoration  of  one  in  Philadelphia  called  for 
a  sermon  in  his  church,  but  he  remarks  that  "people  haven't 
learned  here  yet  the  true  Puritan  style." 

His  home  letters  show  how  strong  was  the  tie  binding  him  to 
home  and  the  family  life.  As  he  grew  into  manhood,  he  could 
not  put  away  these  things.  So  long  as  the  home  still  existed, 
his  heart  leaped  up  at  the  thought  of  it.  The  tie  of  blood  relation- 
ship had  in  it  something  for  which  no  friendship  was  a  substitute. 
These  words  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen  of  many  of  his  letters: 
"I  feel  kind  of  homesick  this  evening,  sick  of  seeing  nothing 
but  these  stranger  faces;  and  it  would  be  a  treat  to  look  in  at 
the  red-clothed  back  parlor  table  for  an  hour  or  two."  Still  he 
was  happy  in  his  work.  February  9,  1859,  he  says:  "Things 
are  going  much  as  usual  down  at  Advent,  quietly  and  pleasantly. 
The  church  is  well  filled  and  most  of  our  desirable  pews  rented. 
I  don't  think  I  could  have  happened  upon  a  more  satisfactory 
little  place  if  I  had  had  my  pick  out  of  all  the  country.  I  have 
been  here  seven  months  to-morrow." 

But  a  small  cloud  was  now  rising  which  portended  change. 
The  congregation  was  contented  with  its  rector,  and  the  gentle- 
men who  had  visited  Sharon  Mission,  near  the  seminary,  to  hear 
him  had  been  justified  in  their  report  that  he  was  the  man  for 
the  place.  Never  in  the  history  of  the  church  had  the  attendance 
been  so  large.  All  would  have  been  well  but  for  the  appearance 
one  Sunday  of  mysterious  strangers  who  came  to  listen  to  the 
preacher,  empowered  to  give  him  a  call  to  St.  John's  Church, 
Cincinnati,  after  hearing  him.  Already  he  had  declined  one 
call  from  St.  Stephen's  Church,  in  Harrisburg,  feeling  sure  that 
he  was  rightly  placed.  The  call  from  Cincinnati  became  known 
in  his  parish  and  in  the  city  and  it  caused  disturbance.  It  was 
an  urgent  call,  with  a  petition  containing  many  signatures,  and 


A 


no  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

it  meant  increase  of  income  to  one  who  was  somewhat  hampered 
by  the  meagreness  of  his  salary.  It  was  declined,  but  it  had 
begotten  as  a  result  uneasiness  about  the  future  of  the  Church 
of  the  Advent.  They  met  the  emergency  as  best  they  could, 
offering  their  rector  such  additional  attractions  as  were  in  their 
power.  Most  of  the  congregation  were  persons  of  limited  means, 
but  they  did  what  they  could.  The  women  at  once  employed 
themselves  in  carrying  out  long-needed  reforms.  At  their 
expense  the  vestry  of  the  church  was  repainted,  recarpeted,  and 
new  furniture  was  added.  The  men  grappled  with  the  long- 
standing debt  of  $8000.  If  this  were  paid  some  $500  would  be 
set  free  to  add  to  the  salary. 

The  incident  did  not  escape  the  attention  of  the  newspapers. 
From  this  time  the  eyes  of  the  world  began  to  be  upon  him. 
In  the  comment  of  the  press  he  was  praised  for  having  de- 
clined the  call,  but  a  lesson  was  read  to  wealthy  parishes,  who 
sought  to  seduce  the  clergy  from  their  allegiance  by  pecuniary 
temptations. 

The  ordination  to  the  priesthood  took  place  on  the  morning 
of  Whitsunday,  i860,  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  in  the 
presence  of  the  congregation,  and  of  his  father  and  mother  and 
his  brother  George.  Bishop  Bowman  preached  the  sermon, 
Dr.  John  A.  Vaughan  presented  him,  and  Bishop  Alonzo  Potter 
administered  the  sacred  rite.  In  the  evening  he  preached,  and 
his  mother  listened  to  him  for  the  first  time.  His  brother  George 
was  also  an  attentive  hearer,  drawing  his  own  conclusions.  He 
had  no  yet  been  confirmed,  and  the  delay  was  the  heaviest 
burden  his  mother  carried.  An  extract  from  his  mother's 
letter  after  her  return  finds  here  a  fitting  place : 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  child,  for  the  joy  you  have  given  me  in 
devoting  your  life  to  the  service  of  Christ.  It  was  the  desire  of 
my  heart  from  your  birth,  and  I  gave  you  up  to  Him,  and  I  thank 
Him  for  accepting  my  offering.  My  dear  Philly,  when  I  hear  of 
your  faithful  labors  in  the  ministry,  I  thank  God,  and  feel  that  I 
have  not  wholly  lived  in  vain.- 

"  I  suppose  you  feel  gratified  that  you  have  had  those  two  calls, 
Philly;  but  don't  let  it  make  you  proud.  Keep  humble  like 
Jesus,     .     ._    .     plead  mightily  for  Christ. 

"  Father  is  very  happy  in  your  success,  and  I  wish  you  could 
know  how  glad  it  makes  your  mother's  heart." 


EARLY  MINISTRY  in 

The  sermons,  more  than  the  note-books,  now  become  the 
record  of  his  intellectual  and  spiritual  life.  He  was  reading 
Robertson's  sermons  with  an  eagerness  which  cannot  be  under- 
stood by  those  who  read  them  to-day,  when  their  thought  has 
become  widely  diffused.  He  continued  to  read  Bushnell,  but 
remarks  that  he  is  not  entirely  in  agreement  with  him.  A  few 
extracts   from  the  note-book   follow: — 

"  The  great  good  of  reading  history  or  biography  is  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  men  and  nations  and  ages  doing  their  duty." 

"  What  a  relief  the  purely  intellectual  is  sometimes !  Stripping 
off  pride  and  prejudice,  and  dogmatism  which  is  the  growth  of 
them,  keeping  the  soul  at  rest  for  a  little  while;  just  for  a  little 
while  letting  the  mind  be  master  and  pursue  in  purest  dominion 
its  own  peculiar  way.  It  does  rest  the  tired  soul  and  give  it  time 
for  refreshment." 

"  Is  not  all  positiveness  of  necessity  partiality?  To  say,  'This 
is  true,  I  know  it,'  and  to  leave  no  room  for  the  limitations  and 
qualifications  that  we  cannot  know,  for  all  those  outside  influences 
of  unseen  truth  which  we  must  be  working  on  and  drawing  from 
this  fact  that  we  have  found, — is  there  not  some  folly  here?  Is 
not  the  true  wisdom  something  like  this? — I  know  so  far  as  it 
goes  this  truth  is  sacredly  and  wholly  true,  but  that  very  truth 
forbids  me  to  believe  that  it  has  not  developments  and  ramifica- 
tions reaching  far  out  into  the  universe  of  associated  truth  with 
which  it  is  connected.  Now  I  know,  and  I  prize  my  knowledge 
as  the  gift  of  God  and  hold  it  sacred;  but  'I  know  in  part,'  I 
wait  till  that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away." 

"  It  seems  sad  and  strange  to  see  how  now  and  then  in  history, 
now  and  then  even  at  the  present  day,  must  come  protests  of  the 
soul  against  the  Christian  Church.  It  is  not  strange  if  we  look 
at  it  rightly.  I  do  not  think  that  it  is  even  sad.  It  is  the  best 
and  purest  part  of  human  nature  crying  out  against  the  false  hu- 
manities that  have  fastened  themselves  upon  a  system  whose  di- 
vinity they  cannot  cloak,  but  whose  efficacy  they  deform.  I  do 
not  think  that  it  is  sad,  for  in  it  I  see  a  new  wonder  of  the  care 
of  God,  that  has  arrayed  against  the  possible  falsifications  of  His 
truth  the  inherent  truth  and  earnestness  of  moral  life ;  because  I 
see  in  it  new  room  to  think  that  the  Church  thus  cared  for,  whose 
purification  has  thus  been  thought  worthy  of  the  wisdom  of 
Omnipotence,  has  surely  high  and  holy  work  to  do  on  earth,  and 
till  that  work  be  done  I  shall  live  to  do  it." 


ii2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  '  As  a  Christian,  humiliation  before  God  was  a  duty  the  meaning 
of  which  he  knew  full  well;  but  as  a  man  moving  among  other 
men,  he  possessed  in  that  moral  seriousness  and  stoic  scorn  of 
temptation  which  characterized  him  a  spring  of  ever  present 
pride,  dignifying  his  whole  bearing  among  his  fellows  and  at 
times  arousing  him  to  a  kingly  intolerance.'  (Said  of  Milton, 
Masson,  i.,  237.)  The  two  perfectly  compatible,  and  their  com- 
patibility solving  many  a  problem  which  I  have  often  felt." 

"  The  world  ruled  and  managed  so  often  by  its  little  and  not  its 
greater  men.  Is  it  not  the  same  principle  that  reappears  when 
a  weaker  and  not  a  stronger  motive  settles  our  conduct,  when  a 
slighter  and  not  a  more  weighty  argument,  or  when  a  whim  and 
not  an  argument  at  all,  decides  our  belief?" 

"  How  fortunate  that  ideas  are  not  confined  in  their  develop- 
ment to  the  developing  capacity  of  the  mind  that  first  conceives 
them." 

"  Beginning  to  allow  ourselves  insincere  pretensions  of  belief  is 
like  beginning  to  take  opium." 

He  was  reading  at  this  time  Quinet's  Histoire  de  mes  Idees, 
and  quotes  this  passage  as  expressing  his  own  experience: 

"Ce  que  j'ai  aime  je  l'ai  trouve"  chacque  jour  plus  aimable. 
Chacque  jour  la  justice  m'a  paru  plus  sainte,  la  liberte  plus  belle, 
la  parole  plus  sacree,  l'art  plus  r£el,  la  realite-  plus  artiste,  la 
podsie  plus  vraie,  la  verite  plus  po^tique,  la  nature  plus  divine, 
le  divin  plus  naturel." 

The  year  i860  was  broken  by  the  usual  holiday,  spent  with 
his  family  in  Boston.  He  occupied  his  old  room  in  the  house 
on  Chauncy  Street,  kept  as  he  had  left  it  when  he  first  went  from 
home.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  wrote  the  sermon 
to  be  preached  on  the  Sunday  after  he  should  return.  It  gave 
the  impression  that  he  did  not  need  to  work  as  others  did,  making 
him  free  when  others  were  in  the  toils  of  labor.  The  year  that 
now  followed  was  prolific  in  sermons.  In  addition  he  gave  a 
weekly  lecture  on  Wednesday  evenings,  and  on  Saturday  evenings 
met  a  Bible  class  composed  of  members  of  his  congregation. 
To  his  large  Sunday-school  he  gave  a  large  part  of  his  time  and 
interest.  He  still  complains  of  being  "fearfully  tired"  after 
the  Sunday  work;  his  letters  contain  apologies  for  delay.     These 


EARLY  MINISTRY  113 

things  disappeared  so  entirely  in  later  years,  when  he  was  in  the 
full  swing  of  his  power,  that  it  seems  surprising  it  should  have 
been  otherwise.  He  reached  the  age  of  twenty- five  on  the  13th 
of  December,  i860,  and  records  his  weight  as  one  hundred  and 
ninety-five  pounds.  But,  with  his  great  height,  he  gave  the 
impression  of  being  slender  in  his  figure. 

Hardly  had  he  begun  his  second  year  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent  when  urgent  calls  were  received  to  other  parishes,  which 
it  was  necessary,  at  least,  that  he  should  consider.  A  committee 
waited  on  him  with  a  call  from  Trinity  Church,  Newport.  An- 
other invitation  was  to  a  vacant  parish  in  Providence,  R.  I. 
Still  a  third  call  came  from  San  Francisco.  There  is  something 
remarkable  in  the  way  the  knowledge  of  him  had  travelled. 
These  invitations  were  declined.  But  in  April  1861,  there  came 
a  call  louder  and  more  peremptory,  to  which  he  long  refused  to 
listen.  When  Dr.  Vinton  resigned  the  rectorship  of  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Philadelphia  he  recommended  Brooks 
as  his  successor  and  the  unanimous  call  immediately  followed. 
His  connection  with  the  church  had  been  a  close  one  through  his 
relations  to  Dr.  Vinton.  He  had  not  only  preached  there  fre- 
quently, but  the  members  of  the  congregation  of  Holy  Trinity 
at  times  formed  a  considerable  part  of  his  audience  at  the  Church 
of  the  Advent.  It  had  become  the  fashion  in  Philadelphia  for 
people  to  wend  their  way  to  the  neat  little  church  on  the  corner 
of  York  Avenue  and  Buttonwood  Street.  "  It  was  not  an  un- 
wonted sight  on  a  Sunday  evening  to  see  the  streets  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  church  filled  with  carriages."  All  through  the 
year  1861  the  question  was  pending  whether  Phillips  Brooks 
would  leave  the  Church  of  the  Advent  for  the  large  Church  of 
the  Holy  Trinity.  It  was  settled  apparently  by  a  letter  to  its 
vestry  on  April  9th,  when  he  declined  the  call  on  the  ground  that 
he  could  not  then  leave  the  Church  of  the  Advent  in  view  of  its 
condition  and  the  circumstances  of  his  connection  with  it. 
But  the  subject  had  only  been  postponed,  and  was  soon  to  come 
up  again  for  more  serious  consideration. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  this  year,  1861,  that  the  Civil  War  began. 
Events  had  been  rapidly  moving  toward  this  result  from  the 
time  of  Lincoln's  election.  Mr.  Brooks  had  recorded  in  his  diary 
for  November  6,  i860,  this  sentence,  with  a  line  drawn  about  it 

8 


ii4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

isolating  it  from  other  sentences  to  make  it  appear  as  prominent 
on  the  page  as  it  loomed  up  significant  to  his  mind, — "Abraham 
Lincoln  chosen  President  of  the  United  States."  For  the  next 
four  years  his  letters,  his  sermons,  his  public  addresses,  show  how 
the  tragedy  and  its  issues  entered  and  quickened  his  personality. 
His  letters  became  a  chronicle  of  the  war.  They  contain  nothing 
new ;  he  had  no  special  source  of  information ;  there  are  thousands 
of  such  letters,  but  these  have  value  as  coming  from  him.  So  far 
as  they  are  used  here,  it  will  be,  not  to  supplement  histories  of  the 
war,  nor  to  revive  its  painful  memories,  but  as  part  of  the  story  of 
a  life  sinking  its  individuality  in  the  national  purpose,  till  the 
soul  of  the  nation  seemed  to  pass  into  his  own.  He  emerged 
from  this  experience  with  a  deeper  devotion  to  the  cause  of  hu- 
manity. He  received  its  teaching  as  a  message  to  himself,  fusing 
his  powers  into  more  intense  and  consecrated  endeavor.  In 
one  sense  the  war  gave  him  his  opportunity.  He  was  roused 
by  it  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enthusiasm ;  he  became  its  represen- 
tative and  mouthpiece  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia  and  finally  he 
spoke  to  the  country  at  large  in  a  memorable  way. 

September  27,1 860.  ' '  I  am  regularly  assessed  and  my  name  on 
the  voting  list.  .  .  .  Everybody  is  talking  politics,  and  it  is  the 
exception  when  there  is  n't  at  least  one  political  procession  within 
hearing.  There  go  the  caps  and  capes  and  torches,  up  Franklin 
Street,  through  the  rain. 

"The  wigwam  up  at  Sixth  and  Brown  is  open  every  evening,  and 
you  can't  get  into  a  street  car  without  being  reminded  that  it's 
within  a  few  weeks  of  Old  Abe's  election.  No  danger  of  a  man's 
forgetting  to  vote  in  such  times  as  these.  Almost  all  Advent  go 
with  the  rector.  I  don't  know  but  one  or  two  Democrats  among 
them,  and  hardly  a  Bell  man." 

December  7,  i860.  "  What  a  time  you  had  in  Boston  Monday! 
I  see  Sanborn  was  in  the  thick  of  it.  I  don't  believe  in  John 
Brown,  but  I  don't  believe  either  in  that  way  of  choking  down 
free  speech.  It  looks  too  much  like  the  way  they  have  of  doing 
things  down  in  South  Carolina,  What  do  people  up  there  say 
about  the  message?  Poor  old  J.  B.  [President  James  Buchanan.] 
He  's  on  his  last  three  months,  luckily." 

December  21,  i860.  "  So  the  Union  's  gone  if  South  Carolina 
has  the  right  to  go;  but  I  believe  we  shall  see  brighter  times  yet, 


EARLY  MINISTRY  115 

and  don't  believe  the  country  five  years  hence  will  repent  of 
the  Republican  victory  of  i860." 

Fbruary  25,1861.  "  What  do  you  think  of  the  President-elect's 
sudden  run  from  Pennsylvania  hospitalities?  Next  week  at  any 
rate  is  close  upon  us,  and  then  'we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see.' 
I  saw  'Abe'  on  Thursday.  He  is  a  good-looking,  substantial 
sort  of  a  man,  and  I  believe  he  '11  do  the  work.  At  any  rate  it  's 
a  satisfaction  to  have  an  honest  man  there,  even  if  he  can't  do 
much." 

March  25,  186 1.  "  As  to  Holy  Trinity  I  have  about  concluded 
not  to  go,  and  have  signified  as  much  to  Dr.  Vinton.  I  think 
there  are  many  reasons  why  I  ought  to  go,  but  I  don't  see 
how  I  can  properly  leave  Advent  just  now.  I  enclose  you  a  para- 
graph that  was  handed  to  me  yesterday,  cut  from  the  Sunday 
Dispatch, — a  'flash'  paper  of  this  city.  It  shows  how  absurdly 
the  thing  has  been  talked  about  here." 

April  2,  1 86 1.  "  Does  n't  it  seem  wonderful  [he  writes  to  his 
younger  brother  Frederick,  on  the  occasion  of  his  confirmation] 
always  to  look  back  on  the  way  that  God  has  led  us  and  to  trace 
back  His  guidance  ever  so  far  before  we  began  to  have  any  idea 
that  we  were  under  it?  How  completely  it  makes  one  feel  that 
the  whole  work  is  in  God  and  not  in  us,  from  first  to  last  that  He 
has  done  it  not  we.  And  how  much  more  than  satisfied  we  are 
that  it  should  be  all  His  doing.  What  a  happy  confidence  it 
gives  us  that,  as  He  began  it  in  spite  of  our  indifference,  so  He  can 
carry  it  on  in  spite  of  our  feebleness.  I  am  thankful  that  you 
can  write  and  feel  as  you  do." 

April  29,  1861.  "  What  times  these  are!  Is  n't  it  great  to  see 
people  in  our  degenerate  days  willing  to  go  to  work  for  a  principle 
as  our  people  are  doing  now?  How  splendidly  old  Massachusetts 
is  doing.  She  has  evidently  got  the  old  blood  left  in  her  yet. 
The  feeling  here  is  just  as  deep  as  ever.  Not  quite  as  much  noise, 
but  everybody  doing  what  they  can.  Our  lecture  room  at  Ad- 
vent has  been  a  tailor's  shop  for  the  last  week,  with  the  ladies 
making  clothes  for  the  volunteers.  This  morning  a  company 
attended  service  at  Advent  and  had  an  appendix  to  the  sermon 
for  their  benefit.  To-night  there  is  to  be  a  baptism  in  Advent 
of  two  young  men  who  are  ordered  off  to-morrow,  and  cannot 
wait  till  confirmation  time.  Everything  now  has  something  to 
do  with  the  war. 

:<  Wise  left  town  last  Monday;  his  furniture  has  been  sent  off, 
and  he  will  probably  never  return.  He  made  himself  somewhat 
obnoxious  before  leaving,  and  was  turned  out  half -shaved  from 


n6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 


a  black  barber's  shop  on  Monday  morning  because  he  used  his 
tongue  too  freely.     His  church  is  in  a  quandary. 

"  We  see  people  here  from  Baltimore  every  day.  I  met  a  lady 
last  night  just  from  there,  who  said  that  half  the  city  would  re- 
joice to  have  a  U.  S.  army  of  30,000  men  come  and  occupy  the 
city.  Why  don't  they  do  it?  The  administration  will  be  forced 
to  do  it  yet  by  the  strong  popular  pressure.  You  have  asked 
once  or  twice  about  the  Holy  Trinity  and  my  reasons  for  not 
going  there.  I  had  but  one  real  reason, — I  could  n't  see  that  I 
could  leave  Advent.  If  I  had  been  wholly  free  I  should  have 
gone,  and  think  from  the  peculiar  nature  of  that  parish  I  could 
have  got  along.  .  .  .  The  war  fever  has  overshadowed  all 
these  church  excitements.  I  had  an  offer  yesterday  to  go  to  San 
Francisco,  to  Grace  Church,  salary  from  $5000  to  $6000.  If  ever 
I  move,  I  am  not  sure  but  that  would  be  a  good  direction,  but 
for  the  present  I  said  I  could  n't  think  of  it.  ..." 

"  Franklin  Square  you  would  n't  know.  It  is  a  drill  yard 
from  morning  to  night,  and  at  this  moment  there  is  a  whole  com- 
pany on  the  sidewalk  opposite  to  701." 

April  29,  1 86 1.  "'The  war  is  inevitable,  and  let  it  come.  I 
repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come.  It  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the 
matter.  Gentlemen  may  cry,  Peace!  Peace!  but  there  is  no 
peace!  the  war  is  actually  begun.'  We  are  in  the  midst  of  re- 
cruiting and  drilling  and  arriving  and  departing  of  troops.  We 
see  the  Massachusetts  men  as  they  pass  through  on  their  way  to 
Baltimore,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  hear  of  their  being  bruised  and 
beaten  and  killed  in  a  city  that  claims  all  the  benefits  of  being  on 
our  side.  There  can  be  but  one  party  in  the  North  now.  There 
is  but  one  in  Philadelphia.  The  excitement  is  intense.  Several 
young  men  of  my  congregation  have  enlisted  and  are  going  on 
high  religious  motives.  Who  dare  say  that  it  is  n't  his  duty  to 
go  when  the  duty  is  so  urgent  and  the  cause  so  sacred? 

"  Of  course  nothing  else  is  talked  of  here,  and  it  's  hard  to  fix 
down  to  work  of  any  kind.  I  was  in  New  York  on  Monday  and 
things  were  the  same  there. 

"  Everything  goes  well  at  Advent.  They  have  just  voted  to 
raise  my  salary  to  $2000,  beginning  next  month.  Our  confirma- 
tion has  just  been  fixed  for  the  15th  of  May." 

May  4,  1861.  "War  still;  quieter  just  now,  but  yet,  as  we 
all  think,  a  fight  certainly  coming.  How  your  last  letter  bubbled 
and  boiled  with  patriotism !  Is  n't  it  a  grand  thing  to  see  how 
the  mind  of  the  whole  country  has  risen  up  to  the  demand  of  the 
times  ?     Does  n't  it  prove,  what  in  a  long  time  of  peacefulness  we 


EARLY  MINISTRY  117 

are  apt  to  forget,  that  the  heroic  qualities  are  true  elements  in 
human  nature,  and  will  always  be  developed  with  the  recurrence 
of  any  exigency  that  calls  for  their  exhibition  and  employment? 
Does  n't  it  renew  and  enlarge  our  faith  in  our  race? 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  write  war  again.  To  be  sure,  there  's 
little  else.  It  's  hard  to  get  away  from  it  in  sermon-writing  or 
letter- writing. " 

May  13,  1861.  "  What  of  the  war?  Is  n't  it  grand  ?  Your 
enthusiasm  is  no  doubt  as  great  as  ours,  and  your  confidence  as 
strong  that  just  the  thing  our  land  has  been  needing  for  ever  so 
long  to  clear  it,  first  of  its  corrupt  government  and  ultimately 
of  the  hateful  curse  of  slavery,  has  come  about  at  last.  The 
Seminary  is  broken  up  and  probably  Northern  students  will 
never  be  on  its  roll  again.  Sparrow  and  Packard  have  gone 
South,  May  has  returned  North.  The  Northern  money  that 
has  gone  into  those  buildings  is  sunk.  ...  At  Advent  all 
goes  much  as  usual.  I  have  been  busy  getting  ready  for  con- 
firmation, which  comes  next  Wednesday  evening.  There  are 
twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  candidates." 

May  18,  1861.  "It  is  only  two  weeks  now  before  I  shall  be 
on  my  way  in  your  direction  [Boston],  unless  Jeff  Davis  is  in 
Philadelphia  before  that  time,  in  which  case,  as  he  may  like  to 
attend  service  at  Advent  and  hear  what  we  think  of  him  there, 
I  should  have  to  stay  and  tell  him. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Father  the  other  day  full  of  red-hot  war 
spirit  and  making  much  of  Governor  Andrew.  It  seems  after  all 
the  Courier  said  that  his  was  an  election  quite  fit  to  be  made. 
How  well  our  Yankee  general  Butler  comes  out  too.  Massa- 
chusetts is  ahead  yet  in  the  war. 

"  Last  Wednesday  evening  we  had  our  confirmation  at  Advent. 
Bishop  Potter  officiated,  and  the  church  was  crowded.  There 
were  thirty-one  candidates.  It  is  encouraging  to  feel  that  some 
work  is  doing.  I  have  enjoyed  this  last  year  exceedingly,  and 
if  I  can  only  feel  that  the  people  get  as  much  good  as  I  do 
pleasure  out  of  our  connection,  I  shall  be  well  satisfied." 

June  26,  1861.  "  Things  don't  seem  to  get  ahead  much  in  the 
war,  do  they?  This  new  talk  about  compromise  I  am  convinced 
will  come  to  nothing,  but  it  is  a  bad  symptom,  and  ought  to  be 
stopped.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  Massachusetts  has  come  down 
handsomely  with  ten  more  regiments." 

June  29,1861.  "  Another  blunder  down  South  yesterday  in  the 
death  of  Captain  Ward.  One  of  these  days,  perhaps,  we  shall  do 
something  to  brag  of,  but  we  don't  seem  to  have  done  it  yet. 


n8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 


What  will  Congress  do  is  the  question.  People  are  getting  dread- 
fully poor  here,  and  even  ministers  are  beginning  to  economize. 
Where  will  it  end?  " 


September  14,  1861.  "When  is  the  great  battle  coming? 
Everybody  says  now  before  another  week  is  over,  but  I  believe 
McClellan  knows  what  he  is  about,  and  won't  fight  till  he  *s 
ready,  and  then  will  whip  them  terribly.  Philadelphia  brags 
loudly  of  her  son  and  has  forgotten  Patterson  in  her  delight 
over  McC. 

"  How  comfortably  the  traitors  are  getting  housed  in  Lafayette. 
Boston  has  contributed  nothing  yet.  You  must  have  some  old 
Courier  men  that  you  would  like  to  spare  that  you  could  send 
to  keep  our  precious  townsmen  company." 

September  27,  1861.  "We  are  just  through  the  President's 
Fast  Day,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  weekday  kept  as  it  has  been. 
Our  stores  almost  without  exception  were  closed;  the  churches 
thronged.  We  had  service  at  Advent  in  the  morning,  and  in  the 
evening  and  afternoon  joined  with  Mr.  Cooper's  and  Dr.  New- 
ton's congregations  for  union  services.  The  churches  all  three 
times  were  overflowing,  and  unable  to  hold  all  that  came,  and  so 
it  was  with  all  the  churches,  I  believe,  all  over  town. 

"I  had  no  sermon,  only  a  short  address.  The  only  restraint  was 
a  feeling  that  I  could  not  speak  out  as  fully  as  1  wished  on  the 
one  great  sin  which  is  beyond  doubt  the  chief  reason  of  this 
calamity  being  on  us,  and  which  has  got  to  be  removed  before  the 
calamity  can  be  lifted  off.  It  is  useless  to  talk  round  and  round 
it,  when  we  know  and  are  sure  that  slavery,  its  existence  in  the 
South  and  its  approval  in  the  North,  is  the  great  crushing,  curs- 
ing sin  of  our  national  life  and  the  cause  of  all  our  evils.  I 
spoke  of  it  freely  yesterday,  and  so  far  as  I  know  without  giving 
offence. 

"  How  strange  this  continual  mismanagement  is !  What  is  ham- 
pering our  soldiers  and  statesmen?  Another  defeat  and  another 
brave  man  useless  out  in  Missouri,  and  all  apparently  for  want  of 
foresight  and  prudence.  Here  's  a  noble  letter  about  the  war  and 
the  country.  Well,  you  '11  excuse  it,  for  there  is  n't  much  worth 
thinking  or  talking  of  besides  in  times  like  these." 

October  1,1861.     "I  got  last  night  the  Transcript  with  its  cut 

at  Dr.  N .     He  deserved  it,  and  more  too.     The  man  who 

can  insult  a  Northern  congregation  nowadays  by  standing  up 
and  laying  the  whole  blame  of  these  troubles  on  the  North  de- 
serves all  the  dislike  and  distrust  he  gets." 


EARLY  MINISTRY  119 

October  20,  1861.  "Another  defeat  and  another  butchery. 
Where  are  we  drifting  to,  and  when  is  the  tide  to  turn?  I  have  n't 
a  doubt  that  it  will  turn,  but  it  is  tedious  waiting  for  it,  and 
meanwhile  we  are  losing  time  and  men. 

"We  have  been  busy  and  excited  this  week  in  the  choice  of  a 
bishop.  The  papers  have  told  you,  no  doubt,  that  Dr.  Stevens 
was  elected.  I  voted  against  him,  and  was  sorry  that  he  was 
elected  simply  because  I  do  not  think  in  the  present  state  of 
things,  and  with  the  prospects  that  are  before  us,  any  man  of 
Southern  sympathies  and  connections,  even  though  he  may  be 
just  now  professedly  loyal,  ought  to  become  the  mouthpiece  of  a 
Northern  diocese.  However,  he  is  an  able  and  a  good  man,  and 
I  shall  hope  the  best  of  his  administration.  It  was  a  very  long 
and  excited  canvass. 

' '  There  is  nothing  new  in  my  own  church  relations .  I  have  had 
an  interview  with  the  Holy  Trinity  people  in  reference  to  their 
giving  a  new  call,  and  have  discouraged  it,  at  least  until  they 
have  made  trial  of  one  or  two  persons  who  have  been  for  some 
time  before  them.     What  will  be  the  upshot  of  it  I  can't  tell." 

November  8,  186 1.  "I  went  to  hear  your  senator  last  night, 
Charles  Sumner,  on  the  war.  He  was  n't  very  great.  He  has 
grown  fat  and  clumsy,  and  has  not  the  same  fire  that  he  used  to 
have  Where  is  the  fleet?  Are  we  ever  to  hear  from  it,  or  has 
it  drifted  out  into  infinite  space  or  gone  over  to  secession  or  gone 
down  Armada  fashion  in  one  of  these  gales?  I  have  faith  still, 
but  things  look  badly,  especially  in  Missouri.  What  a  pity  that 
Fremont's  removal  came  just  at  this  time,  though,  independently 
of  that,  no  doubt  it  was  a  good  move,  or  rather  it  was  a  bad  one 
ever  to  put  him  there." 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  after  waiting  for  six  months, 
renewed  its  call  to  Mr.  Brooks  and  the  call  was  accepted  On 
November  18,  1861,  he  wrote  to  his  parents: 

"Monday,  November  18,  1861. 

"  Dear  Father  and  Mother, — I  have  resigned  the  Advent 
to-day,  and  shall  accept  the  Holy  Trinity  to-morrow.  You  will 
not  think  it  strange  that  I  have  not  written  you  about  this  before. 
I  wanted  to  have  it  fixed  and  settled  before  I  troubled  you  with 
it  again. 

"  The  call  from  the  Holy  Trinity  came  two  weeks  ago,  and  since 
then  I  have  been  in  a  wretched  state,  weighing  my  desire  to  stay 
with  the  Advent  people  against  my  apparent  duty  to  go  and  work 
this  larger  field.     I  never  want  to  pass  another  such  two  weeks. 


i2o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

I  went  on  a  week  ago  to-day  and  passed  two  days  with  Dr.  Vin- 
ton. After  coming  back  from  there  the  matter  has  had  much 
serious  and  prayerful  thought,  and  has  resulted  finally  in  a  clear 
conviction  that  I  ought  to  go.  The  Advent  people  are  very  much 
hurt  and  very  indignant  about  it.  I  am  sincerely  sorry  to  leave 
them,  more  so  than  I  can  tell,  but  what  can  I  do? 

"  And  now  about  the  details.  My  resignation  is  to  take  effect 
after  the  first  Sunday  in  Advent.  I  have  n't  the  heart  to  go 
right  to  Holy  Trinity  the  next  Sunday,  and  so  shall  accept  then 
to  begin  the  ist  of  January.  Most  of  the  intervening  time  I  shall 
spend  with  you  in  Chauncy  Street,  if  you  will  take  me  in.  I  say 
'  most '  because  I  may  be  kept  here  a  few  days  after  I  leave  Ad- 
vent to  make  arrangements  about  moving,  etc.,  and  also  because 
I  have  partly  promised  to  spend  the  second  Sunday  in  December 
with  Dr.  Vinton.  At  any  rate  I  shall  be  at  home  to  keep  George's 
birthday  and  Christmas." 

The  motives  which  induced  Mr.  Brooks  to  accept  the  call  from 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  were  of  a  practical  character.  It 
need  not  be  said  that  no  sordid  element  was  among  them.  Some 
things  had  become  more  apparent  as  the  months  went  by  and 
he  was  obliged  to  face  the  actual  situation.  His  church  was 
crowded  with  worshippers,  but  they  brought  no  strength  to  the 
parish;  they  came  to  listen,  but  not  to  identify  themselves  with 
the  congregation.  He  was  ministering  to  the  members  of  other 
parishes.  If  he  must  preach  to  crowded  churches,  as  seemed  to 
be  his  destiny,  it  was  better  that  he  should  do  so  in  a  larger  edifice, 
capable  of  accommodating  fifteen  hundred  hearers,  than  in  one 
with  a  capacity  of  only  five  hundred.  He  needed  a  stronger  van- 
tage ground,  a  more  prominent  position.  That  part  of  the  city 
where  he  ministered  was  changing,  the  trend  of  the  population 
was  away  from  the  neighborhood,  and  the  possibilities  of  growth 
were  limited.  The  case  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was 
laid  before  him  in  a  statement  by  an  eminent  jurist,  one  of  the 
members,  and  the  pleas  there  urged  coincided  with  his  own  sober 
judgment.  During  the  two  years  and  a  half  that  he  had  been  at 
the  Advent,  there  had  been  developing  a  struggle  between  him 
and  the  larger  church.  He  had  preached  there  too  often  not  to 
have  created  a  bond  between  him  and  its  people.  So  long  as  he 
was  a  possibility  they  could  unite  on  no  one  else.  Dr.  Vinton's 
opinion  and  advice  also  weighed  heavily  with  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  own  people  were  not  willing  to  let  him  go.    They  refused 


EARLY  MINISTRY  121 

to  accept  his  resignation.  He  seemed  to  belong  to  them  by 
divine  right.  They  had  no  great  jurist  among  them,  but  they 
stated  their  case  in  a  way  to  move  the  strongest  heart.  They 
recited  the  story  of  how  they  had  discovered  him  when  he  was 
unknown,  how  their  hearts  had  gone  out  to  him  from  the  first, 
how  much  he  had  been  to  them  and  to  their  children,  how  the 
church  had  grown  and  prospered  under  his  care.  In  all  this  they 
saw  the  moving  of  a  divine  spirit. 

He  was  distressed  and  sore  at  heart,  as  his  letters  show,  in 
reaching  his  conclusion.  It  was  unfortunate  that  social  distinc- 
tions should  have  complicated  the  issue,  but  that  was  inevitable. 
The  subject  was  discussed  in  the  newspapers,  with  the  suggestion 
that  the  decision  turned  on  personal  ambition,  or  other  unworthy 
motive. 

Whichever  way  he  decided,  there  would  be  great  rejoicing  and 
great  sorrowing.  It  had  become  evident  from  repeated  calls 
that  he  would  not  be  left  in  peace  where  he  was.  The  desire 
grew  upon  him  to  be  permanently  fixed,  where  he  could  do  his 
work  undisturbed,  and  to  better  advantage. 

Before  his  resignation  should  take  effect  came  Thanksgiving 
Day.  How  to  interpret  the  dark  hour,  when  a  nation  was 
involved  in  the  horrors  of  a  fratricidal  war,  so  that  gratitude  to 
God  might  still  be  the  undercurrent  of  its  being,  was  the  problem 
to  be  faced.  He  took  for  his  text  the  verse  of  a  familiar  Psalm, 
"I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  judgment."  The  sermon  was  reported 
in  the  daily  newspapers  with  the  preface,  "The  neat  little  Church 
of  the  Advent  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity  yesterday  morn- 
ing."    He  referred  in  his  sermon  to  the  recent  Fast  Day  services : 

"  The  shadow  of  that  day  will  give  color  to  this.  God's  two 
hands — His  hand  of  blessing  and  His  hand  of  caution — are  laid 
on  us  together,  and  if  we  sing  at  all  to-day  it  must  be  a  double 
strain,  like  that  which  David  announces  in  our  text,  'I  will 
sing  of  mercy  and  of  judgment.'  " 

On  December  6th  he  started  for  Boston,  staying  for  a  few 
days  in  New  York.  It  was  his  intention  during  his  absence 
to  refrain  from  preaching.  How  well  he  kept  his  purpose  is 
shown  by  the  records  of  his  Sundays  during  the  month  of  Decem- 
ber.    On  the  8th  he  preached  in  the  morning  at  Trinity  Church, 


n 


i22  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

New  York,  and  in  the  afternoon  at  St.  Mark's.  On  the  15th 
he  was  in  Medford,  preaching  at  Grace  Church,  morning  and 
evening.  On  the  2 2d — and  this  was  a  memorable  day  for  him 
and  his  family — he  preached  at  St.  Paul's  Church,  Boston,  in  the 
church  to  which  he  had  gone  as  a  child  since  he  was  three  years 
old,  with  his  family  in  the  old  pew,  No.  60,  in  the  broad  central 
aisle.  His  text  was  St.  John  iv.  28,  29:  "Come,  see  a  man  who 
told  me  all  things,  that  ever  I  did;  is  not  this  the  Christ?"  In 
the  evening  he  preached  at  St.  Mary's,  Dorchester,  where  his 
uncle,  Mr.  John  Phillips,  resided.  On  the  29th  he  preached  for 
the  first  time  in  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  while  Bishop  Eastburn 
read  the  service.  In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  he  preached  at 
St.  James's,  Roxbury.  On  the  13th  of  December  he  kept  his 
twenty-sixth  birthday. 

One  would  like  to  know  what  judgment  his  parents  passed 
upon  his  preaching  as  he  stood  before  them,  or  what  Bishop 
Eastburn,  the  stalwart  Evangelical  divine,  thought  of  the 
unfamiliar  utterance  as  he  listened  from  the  chancel.  The 
father  was  a  severe  critic  of  preachers  as  they  passed  before 
him  in  review  at  St.  Paul's.  He  admired  the  slow  deliberate 
oratory,  with  the  rotund  sonorous  voice.  It  must  have  seemed  to 
him  as  though  his  son  defied  every  rule  of  oratory,  or  was  in- 
capable of  classification  according  to  accepted  principles.  In- 
deed, the  new  preacher  gave  his  audience  no  time  to  think  about 
his  voice,  whether  it  were  fine  or  not;  there  was  a  rush  of  sen- 
tences, one  tumbling  after  another,  and  the  audience  had  all 
it  could  do  to  follow,  for  somehow  he  made  them  intensely  eager 
to  follow  and  to  catch  each  spoken  word,  as  though  something 
essential  would  be  lost  if  their  attention  should  be  diverted. 
There  must  have  been  surprise  and  even  amazement  at  something 
so  unlike  what  they  had  ever  heard  before.  Not  only  was  the 
preacher's  delivery  unfamiliar,  but  his  thought  was  new;  the 
old  familiar  gospel  was  in  his  sermons,  but  it  came  with  a  new 
meaning  and  force,  stripped  of  the  old  conventionalities  of 
expression.  When  he  preached  at  Dorchester,  one  who  heard 
him  thought  the  congregation  was  rather  amused  than  im- 
pressed with  the  rapid  manner,  the  stumbling  over  sentences, 
the  occasional  entanglement  of  words  from  which  he  extricated 
himself  with  difficulty.     There  is  a  tradition  also  that  his  uncle, 


EARLY  MINISTRY  123 

when  he  first  heard  him,  did  not  feel  sure  that  he  would  succeed 
as  a  preacher,  but  thought  him  a  young  man  possessed  of  genius. 

During  the  first  six  months  of  the  new  rectorship  the  time 
was  so  occupied  with  making  the  acquaintance  of  his  parish 
and  gathering  up  the  lines  of  work  that  he  found  little  time  for 
study.  The  record  shows  that  he  wrote  but  two  sermons  and 
was  obliged  to  fall  back  upon  extemporaneous  preaching.  He 
was  making  and  receiving  calls  morning,  afternoon,  and  evening 
of  each  day.  The  hospitality  of  his  congregation  was  boundless, 
the  social  festivities  at  which  his  presence  was  desired  were 
innumerable. 

His  new  position  entailed  other  and  wider  responsibilities. 
He  was  taken  at  once  into  the  confidence  of  the  venerable  men 
who  were  charged  with  duties  to  the  Church  at  large,  the 
leaders  of  the  Evangelical  party,  who  at  that  special  moment 
felt  that  a  crisis  was  impending  in  the  Church,  which  called  for 
strenuous  efforts  if  the  faith  was  to  be  maintained.  From  this 
time  he  was  a  constant  speaker  at  meetings  and  anniversaries  of 
the  American  Church  Missionary  Society,  the  Evangelical  Know- 
ledge Society,  and  to  these  was  now  to  be  added  a  third,  the 
Evangelical  Education  Society.  The  seminary  at  Alexandria 
having  been  closed  in  consequence  of  the  war,  and  its  professors 
and  students  scattered,  the  need  was  felt  for  a  central  school  of 
theology  with  the  advantages  which  proximity  to  a  large  city 
could  confer.  As  the  rector  of  Holy  Trinity,  Mr.  Brooks  became 
one  of  the  overseers  of  the  new  divinity  school,  giving  freely  of 
his  time  to  the  many  preliminary  meetings  which  the  new 
enterprise  demanded.  By  the  leaders  of  the  Evangelical  school, 
he  was  welcomed  for  his  high  position,  and  the  social  influence 
he  represented,  but  chiefly  for  that  eloquence  which  gave  a  new 
and  potent  charm  to  the  cause  so  dear  to  them.  These  older 
men  must  even  then  have  recognized  some  difference  in  the 
presentation  of  the  truth  as  they  held  it,  but  they  were  wise  and 
large-hearted,  penetrating  beneath  the  surface  and  recognizing 
that  at  heart,  and  in  all  the  essential  quality  of  the  gospel,  he  was 
at  one  with  them.     From  this  conviction  they  never  wavered. 

It  was  characteristic  of  him  in  his  youth  that  he  met  those 
new  and  larger  obligations  with  the  gravity  of  age,  throwing  him- 
self into  every  speech  he  made  on  representative  occasions,  so 


• 


i24  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

that  the  occasion  should  not  fail  through  any  fault  of  his.  He 
was  now  sought  after  for  such  special  events  as  ordinations  and 
consecrations  of  churches,  because  his  presence  and  the  word 
he  spoke  were  felt  to  be  necessary  to  the  fitness  of  these  solem- 
nities. It  was  almost  too  much  for  any  man  to  be  called  on  to 
endure  with  safety.  But  the  admiration,  the  adulation  which 
now  went  forth  towards  him,  the  enthusiasm  his  presence  created, 
he  seemed  to  regard  as  a  shadow  from  which  he  would  fain 
escape.  If  he  was  in  this  world  of  social  and  ecclesiastical 
functions  he  was  not  of  it.  Those  who  knew  him  well  can  bear 
witness  to  another  peculiarity;  he  was  only  too  glad  to  leave 
the  scene  of  his  triumph  to  get  once  more  with  a  few  well-chosen 
friends,  as  though  the  honor  and  applause  which  came  to  him 
were  unimportant  compared  with  the  privilege  which  friendship 
brought,  and  he  were  tacitly  entreating  his  friends  to  forgive 
these  accidental  distinctions  of  popularity  and  fame  as  having 
no  intrinsic  significance.  After  every  public  function,  he 
hastened  away  to  this  social  communion.  Sometimes  it  left  the 
impression  that  he  was  hardly  responsible  for  or  but  slightly 
related  to  his  work  in  the  pulpit,  that  the  value  of  life  was  to  be 
found  in  social  fellowship.  To  make  the  quick  transition  from  the 
spiritual  exaltation  of  the  pulpit  to  the  ordinary  converse  of 
life  was  easy  for  him  and  seemed  essential  to  his  peace  of  mind. 
While  others  were  still  too  deeply  moved  with  what  he  had  been 
uttering  to  think  of  anything  else,  he  appeared  to  have  forgotten 
it  or  to  regard  it  as  an  ordinary  circumstance.  To  those  who 
knew  him  the  impression  was  not  misleading.  He  was  bearing 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  his  own  experience,  that  the  joy  of 
living,  the  pleasure  of  social  converse,  the  talk  which  turned 
upon  little  things,  the  wit  and  the  humor  natural  to  man,  were 
not  incompatible  with  religion;  that  to  turn  from  one  to  the 
other,  to  be  ready  for  either,  was  only  to  recognize  the  unity  of 
man's  existence  in  a  world  which  was  temporal  while  conjoined 
with  the  eternal.  He  may  seem  to  have  carried  his  defiance  of 
conventional  religious  manners  to  an  extreme,  but,  if  so,  he  may 
have  felt  that  the  singular  power  which  he  exerted  in  the  pulpit 
was  a  source  of  danger,  unless  it  were  counterbalanced  by 
participation  in  the  ways  of  common  life. 

"January  n,  1862.     I  like  them  (my  new  people)  more  and 


EARLY  MINISTRY  125 

more  the  more  I  see  of  them.  They  are  kind,  cordial,  and  full 
of  will  to  work.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  disagreeable  fashion- 
able life  among  them,  but  many  of  them  are  earnest  and  devoted 
people.  My  first  Wednesday  evening  lecture  came  off  last 
Wednesday  night.  The  lecture  room  was  thronged,  but  both 
then  and  last  Sunday  there  were  many  strangers.  I  am  not 
ambitious  of  a  crowd  and  am  satisfied  to  have  the  church  well 
filled." 

"February  3,  1862.     All  is  going  swimmingly  at  the  new  church. 

Mr.  C tells  me  he  rented  the  last  pew  on  Saturday,  and  the 

church  is  all  taken  now  for  the  first  time.  Yesterday  I  began  my 
plan  of  having  evening  service  once  a  month,  with  a  service  for 
the  children  instead  of  the  regular  afternoon  service.  It  went 
first-rate;  both  afternoon  and  evening  were  overcrowded.  Our 
Wednesday  evening  lectures  are  always  much  more  than  full. 
So  you  see  that  we  are  doing  well  and  have  every  reason  to  hope 
for  the  future.  Dr.  Vinton  was  here  last  week  and  seemed  to 
think  things  looked  prosperous.     .     .     . 

"  I  want  you  and  Mother  to  make  your  plans  to  come  on  here  in 
the  spring." 

"  February  8,  1862.  Everything  with  us  is  going  as  quietly  as 
if  there  were  no  war.  I  am  getting  easy  in  my  new  seat,  and 
have  about  all  the  reins  picked  up  and  fairly  in  my  hands  for  the 
long  drive.  Our  church  is  very  full  and  all  rented.  They  are 
beginning  to  whisper  of  enlargement,  but  it  won't  be  done  .so 
long  as  we  owe  $60,000.  .  .  .  To-morrow  I  am  going  back  to 
Advent  for  the  first  time.  I  am  going  to  take  charge  of  their 
Sunday-School  Anniversary  in  the  afternoon  and  to  preach  for 
them  in  the  evening.  It  will  feel  queer;  some  of  them  did  n't 
want  me  to  come,  but  I  think  probably  the  best  way  to  break 
down  that  feeling  is  just  by  going." 

To  his  brother  Frederick  he  writes,  urging  on  him  the  claims 
of  the  ministry,  and  congratulating  him  on  his  election  into  the 
Hasty  Pudding  Club  at  Harvard: 

"  February  9,  1862.  Have  you  ever  thought  about  your  pro- 
fession? It  is  almost  time  to  choose.  The  ministry  of  Christ 
needs  men  terribly;  so  much  to  do,  so  few  trained  and  cultivated 
men  to  do  it.  What  do  you  say?  Write  to  me  about  this  too, 
and  be  sure  that  all  you  say  shall  be  to  me  alone. 

"  When  is  it  [the  initiation]  to  come  off  ?  Please  write  me  word 
that  I  may  make  my  plans  if  possible  to  be  there.  I  bid  you 
welcome  into  our  little  fraternity,  and  shall  be  glad  to  sit  with 
you  at  our  musty  board  and  glory  once  more  in  my  silver  spoon." 


i26  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  March  3, 1862.  What  with  sermons,  and  lectures,  and  meet- 
ings, and  dinings-out,  and  making  five  or  six  hundred  new- 
acquaintances,  the  time  has  gone  very  pleasantly,  but  very  hur- 
riedly. I  find  the  new  parish  all  that  it  was  promised.  There 
is  a  very  great  deal  of  wealth  and  luxury,  but  also  a  large  amount 
of  intelligence  and  refinement  as  well  as  of  earnestness  and  de- 
votion. The  church  is  all  taken  up,  and  we  are  slowly  providing 
for  our  debt  by  the  sale  of  pews.  Some  $3000  has  been  sold  since 
I  took  charge.  The  contributions  in  these  two  months  are  some- 
thing over  $2000.  Then  we  are  doing  a  large  work  among  the 
poor,  over  two  hundred  of  them  being  in  our  classes  and  societies. 
Our  meetings  are  all  overcrowded,  especially  our  Wednesday 
evening  lectures,  for  which  our  lecture  room  is  much  too 
small.     .     .     . 

"  How  well  the  war  goes  on,  but  now  the  elements  are  against 
us  once  again,  and  I  am  afraid  the  great  Virginia  'Advance' 
will  suffer  from  this  frightful  weather." 

His  mother's  letters  were  not  so  frequent  as  when  he  was 
at  Alexandria.  She  was  at  this  time  concentrating  her  interest 
and  anxiety  upon  George,  the  third  son,  who  had  not  yet  been 
confirmed.  For  years  she  had  been  praying  and  working  for  this 
consummation,  and  George,  who  had  reached  the  age  of  twenty- 
three,  gave  no  sign  of  an  awakening  to  the  things  of  religion. 
But  she  was  also  moved,  as  was  every  member  of  the  family,  by 
the  reports  which  were  brought  to  Boston  through  friends  who 
had  been  visiting  Philadelphia,  and  who  went  with  great  ex- 
pectations to  hear  the  young  preacher.  The  homage  he  seemed 
to  be  receiving  gave  his  father  and  mother  a  sense  of  disquietude 
lest  some  injury  should  be  done  to  his  character.  His  mother 
now  wrote:  "I  am  glad  you  are  prospering  so  well  in  your 
church.  I  hope  you  will  always  be  faithful  and  humble.  Some- 
times I  fear,  Philly,  that  the  praises  of  your  friends  will  make  you 
proud,  for  you  are  human;  but  do  not  let  it."  His  father  was 
also  moved  to  warn  him  against  the  evils  of  flattery:  "You  are 
in  a  dangerous  situation  for  a  young  man,  and  I  cannot  help 
warning  you  of  it.  Keep  your  simplicity  and  your  earnestness, 
above  all  your  devotion  to  your  Master's  cause,  and  don't  let 
these  flattering  demonstrations  you  see  about  you  withdraw  you 
from  them.  Keep  on  in  the  even  tenor  of  your  ways,  so  that 
when  there  is  a  lull  in  the  excitement  it  will  find  you  the  same." 

But  mingled  with  parental  fears  was  pride  in  the  son's  career. 


EARLY  MINISTRY  127 

His  mother  writes  to  him :  "What  a  delightful  work  you  are  en- 
gaged in,  and  you  seem  so  happy  in  it!  No  wonder.  How  differ- 
rent  it  seems  from  my  life's  work,  so  humble  and  so  laborious. 
But  far  be  it  from  me  to  complain,  while  God  is  honoring  me 
in  letting  my  children  preach  His  glorious  gospel.  I  wish  He 
would  call  every  one  of  them  for  His  servants."  But  she  was 
not  unconscious  that  she  had  some  share  in  the  result.  She 
encloses  a  short  extract  from  a  newspaper,  which  may  have 
more  than  one  application:  a  prospective  look  for  him,  as  well 
as  retrospective  in  her  own  case: 

"  It  is  often  a  matter  of  surprise  that  distinguished  men  have 
such  inferior  children  and  that  a  great  name  is  seldom  perpetu- 
ated. The  secret  of  this  is  often  evident:  the  mothers  have  been 
inferior, — mere  ciphers  in  the  scale  of  existence.  All  the  splen- 
did advantages  procured  by  wealth  and  the  father's  position 
cannot  supply  this  one  deficiency  in  the  mother,  who  gives  char- 
acter to  the  child." 

In  response  to  his  parents'  caution,  he  writes: 

"Wednesday,  March  12,  1862.  I  thank  you  for  your  con- 
gratulations and  also  for  your  cautions.  I  hope  my  letters  have 
not  looked  as  if  I  were  getting  conceited.  You  must  let  me  know 
just  as  soon  as  they  do.  Seriously,  though,  there  is  so  much  to 
humble  one  every  day  in  the  sense  of  the  imperfections  with 
which  the  work  is  done,  that  it  seems  to  me  there  is  but  little 
chance  for  a  man  to  get  puffed  up  with  the  mere  outward  man- 
ifestations of  success.  I  am  abundantly  and  devoutly  thankful 
for  all  the  fruits  I  see,  but  they  are  so  out  of  proportion  to  the 
needs  and  capacities  of  the  field  that  there  is  enough  to  humiliate 
as  well  as  to  elate.     .     .     . 

"How  the  news  comes  in  this  morning  from  the  war ! 1 — It  seems 
rather  hard  to  understand  as  yet.  Either  there  is  a  general 
cave  of  the  great  rebellion,  or  else  they  are  laying  deeper  plots 
than  ever  before.  We  shall  see  in  a  few  days  now.  What  a 
narrow  escape  we  had  in  the  Merrimac  affair.     .     .     ." 

From  this  time  there  were  constantly  appearing,  in  the  news- 
papers, descriptions  of  the  preacher  and  of  his  preaching.     A 

•  The  capture  of  forts  Henry  and  Donelson  by  General  Grant,  which  gave 
the  Union  armies  possession  of  the  Tennessee  and  Cumberland  rivers,  the 
highway  to  the  Southern  States  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi. 


i28  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

clerical    correspondent    of    the    Christian    Times,    who    visited 
Philadelphia  from  New  York,  writes: 

"  It  is  no  common  sight,  even  in  this  precocious  age,  to  see  so 
young  a  man  ministering  with  such  ability  and  acceptableness 
to  a  congregation  that  will  rank  among  the  most  numerous  and 
influential  in  the  land.  ...  In  appearance  he  is  tall 
and  commanding,  but  not  over-graceful ;  his  style  of  elocution  is 
rapid  even  to  discomfort,  many  of  his  glowing  periods  being  lost 
through  the  quickness  of  their  utterance.  His  composition  is 
marked  by  striking  originality  and  comprehensiveness.  .  .  . 
Whether  due  to  Mr.  Brooks's  personality  or  the  character  of  the 
people,  we  noticed  that  the  church  was  as  well  filled  in  the  after- 
noon as  in  the  morning, — a  statement  that  could  hardly  be 
predicated  of  any  of  our  own  churches." 

But  on  the  other  hand,  so  long  as  he  remained  at  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Trinity  he  was  subjected  to  a  certain  petty  and 
malignant  criticism;  his  motives  were  impugned,  reports  cir- 
culated which  were  untrue  but  which  travelled  far  and  wide, 
causing  no  little  embarrassment.  One  of  these  reports  (intended 
to  be  amusing)  was  the  story  that  he  had  been  presented  with 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pairs  of  slippers.  The  motive  of  these 
attacks  seems  to  have  been  resentment  at  his  leaving  the  Church 
of  the  Advent. 

Amid  the  pressure  of  parish  duties,  so  heavy  and  exacting 
as  to  leave  little  time  for  study  or  for  sermon  writing,  even  the 
war  itself  seemed  remote.  But  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  General 
McClellan  began  his  movement  toward  Richmond.  Phillips 
Brooks  was  one  of  the  many  who  put  faith  in  McClellan  and 
looked  for  a  speedy  termination  of  the  war.  After  Lent  was 
over  he  made  a  visit  to  Washington,  of  which  he  writes: 

"  I  saw  all  there  was  to  be  seen,  and  although  there  is  no  army 
in  that  region  now,  yet  the  forts  and  camps  and  the  general  look 
of  the  country  on  the  other  side  of  the  Potomac  are  very  interest- 
ing. Our  old  seminary  is  a  hospital  now,  and  the  place  is  ter- 
ribly altered.  The  woods  are  all  cut  down,  fences  gone,  and  the 
roads  completely  obliterated.  The  whole  country  for  miles 
around  is  trodden  down  with  a  perfect  desolation." 

McClellan' s  movement  ended  in  disastrous  defeat  but  there 
was  encouragement  in  the  capture  of  New  Orleans  by  Farragut, 


EARLY  MINISTRY  129 

the  battle  of  Shiloh,  and  the  taking  of  Corinth  (May,  1862),  which 
gave  to  the  North  the  greater  part  of  the  Mississippi  River, 
threatening  the  South  with  the  loss  of  Tennessee,  Alabama,  and 
Mississippi.  General  Grant  was  now  first  heard  of  in  the  West. 
His  name  had  not  yet  become  familiar  to  the  people,  but  the 
battle  of  Pittsburg  Landing  revealed  his  character  and  method. 
The  record  of  killed,  wounded,  and  missing  was  24,000.  While 
these  events  were  occurring,  Mr.  Brooks  made  his  first  visit  to 
Niagara  Falls. 

"  It  was  dark  when  we  got  there,  and  so  I  slept  all  night  with  the 
roar  of  the  cataract,  which  I  had  not  yet  seen,  preparing  me  for 
the  morning  sight.  When  I  woke  up,  full  in  the  view  from  my 
room  window,  there  it  was!  Greater  than  any  dream  I  ever 
formed  of  it.  More  wonderful  and  awful  than  any  sight  I  had 
supposed  our  world  could  furnish.  Of  the  next  two  days  I  can't 
tell  you  much.  They  were  spent  in  an  incessant  wandering, 
learning  the  miracle  from  every  point  of  view, — under  the  falls 
and  over  the  falls,  up  the  river  and  down  the  river,  from  the 
Bridge  and  the  Island  and  the  Tower,  and  what  is  after  ail  the 
view  I  remember  most  vividly, — that  grand  sweep  that  you  see 
from  the  front  piazza  of  the  Clifton  House.  We  went  every- 
where, and  got  ourselves  full  of  the  glory  and  beauty  of  Niagara. 
The  most  wonderful  thing  to  me,  I  think,  was  the  color,  both 
of  the  falls  and  of  the  river,  its  changes,  and  depths,  and  bril- 
liancy. I  never  knew  what  water  was  before.  The  last  day  of 
our  stay  was  at  the  Cataract  House,  though  we  had  been  over  on 
that  side  before." 

The  impression  made  on  him  by  Niagara  found  expression  in 
a  sonnet: 

"  O  Christ,  whose  truth  once  spoke  from  winds  and  seas, 
Hast  thou  not  still  for  wretchedness  and  sin, 
Some  message  speaking  out  of  scenes  like  these?  " 

This  year  his  vacation  was  a  more  elaborate  one;  he  made  his 
first  visit  to  the  White  Mountains,  stopping  at  Newport  on  the 
way  to  Boston  where  he  spent  a  week  with  one  of  his  parishioners. 
While  there  in  the  first  week  of  July  he  heard  the  news  of 
McClellan's  defeat  before  Richmond.  He  records  the  purchase, 
while  in  Boston  of  many  books.  His  tramp  in  the  White  Moun- 
tains was  a  very  enjoyable  one,  for  he  had  friends  with  him,  and 
met  others.  But  he  was  not  fitted  for  severe  climbing,  his 
9 


13©  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

strength  gave  out,  and  he  finally  succumbed  to  a  sprained  ankle. 
The  chief  event  of  the  summer  was  connected  with  the  war, 
which  now  came  close  to  his  family.  The  future  was  looking 
dark,  after  McClellan's  defeat  with  heavy  slaughter;  but  Boston 
was  girding  itself  anew  to  the  fearful  task,  no  longer  under 
any  illusions  about  McClellan,  or  fond  anticipations  that  the 
end  of  the  struggle  was  near.  Instead  of  dreaming  of  an  easy 
victory  over  the  South,  it  began  to  look  as  though  the  South 
might  prolong  the  contest  indefinitely,  if  not  finally  secure  its 
independence.  A  great  meeting  had  been  held  at  Faneuil  Hall, 
to  aid  in  the  work  of  enlistment,  where  Edward  Everett  was 
one  of  the  speakers,  and  Phillips  Brooks  was  present  to  hear. 
The  excitement  was  intense,  and  under  these  motives,  that 
the  need  was  pressing  and  that  the  call  had  come  to  him, 
George  Brooks  had  enlisted  as  a  soldier  in  the  ranks. 


CHAPTER  VII 
1862-1863 

THE  CIVIL  WAR.  LINCOLN'S  PROCLAMATION.  GENERAL 
CONVENTION  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH.  DEATH 
OF  HIS  BROTHER.  PARISH  WORK.  THREATENED 
INVASION  OF  PHILADELPHIA.  BISHOP  HOPKINS'S 
BIBLE  ARGUMENT  FOR  SLAVERY.  INTEREST  IN  THE 
FREEDMEN.      THANKSGIVING    SERMON. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  his  parish  in  September,  Mr.  Brooks 
was  asked  to  consider  a  call  to  St.  Paul's  Church,  Brookline, 
Mass.  There  came  also  an  invitation  to  the  rectorship  of  Christ 
Church,  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York.  He  was  advised  by  a  good 
judge  in  these  matters  to  accept  this  latter  call,  on  the  ground 
that,  as  he  must  be  destined  for  the  metropolis,  he  might  as  well 
go  at  once.  He  had  returned  to  Philadelphia  with  the  deter- 
mination to  rescue  more  of  his  time  for  study  and  sermon  writ- 
ing. For  this  purpose  he  now  kept  a  room  at  the  church.  He 
had  creative  moods  in  the  work  of  sermon  writing.  One  of 
these  was  from  18  52  to  1865,  when  he  lived  in  a  state  of  in- 
tellectual tension  as  well  as  of  moral  fervor  as  a  result  of  the 
influence  upon  him  of  the  Civil  War.  During  these  years  it  was 
wonderful  how  he  poured  himself  forth  and  apparently  without 
effort,  never  disappointing  expectation  or  falling  below  himself. 
One  of  his  youthful  hearers  has  described  the  effect  upon  him: 

"  Many  a  Svnday  afternoon  when  the  wide  doors  of  that  church 
were  thrown  back,  and  the  crowds  flocked  out  into  the  open  air, 
it  seemed  to  those  listeners  coming  out  into  the  street  again  as  if 
the  very  heavens  were  on  fire,  not  because  the  sun  was  setting 
across  the  Schuylkill,  but  because  the  preacher  had  projected  a 
light  into  the  open  sky  of  the  heavens, — the  light  of  the  mystic, 

131 


i32  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  light  of  the  prophet,  the  light  which  never  was  on  sea  or 
land." 

He  had  now  won  the  confidence  of  his  hearers  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  whatever  he  might  say.  even  if  it  were  unimportant, 
or  trite,  gained  an  added  effect  from  the  force  of  his  personality. 
He  exerted  a  mysterious  charm  the  secret  spring  of  which  neither 
he  nor  his  hearers  could  understand. 

The  autumn  months  of  1862  were  the  darkest  in  the  history 
of  the  war.  McClellan  had  been  outgeneralled,  his  army  de- 
feated with  immense  loss  of  life,  while  the  Southern  forces,  gain- 
ing new  hope  and  energy,  had  begun  to  act  on  the  offensive,  with 
the  intention  of  carrying  the  war  into  the  North.  The  prospect 
of  bringing  the  war  to  an  end  by  the  capture  of  Richmond  van- 
ished into  the  remote  future.  If  it  was  to  be  done  at  all,  it  must 
be  by  the  conquest  of  the  whole  Southern  territory,  the  Northern 
army  gradually  closing  in  upon  the  Confederate  capital  from  the 
west  and  south  as  well  as  from  the  north.  To  do  this,  required 
not  only  the  indefinite  prolongation  of  the  war,  but  would  be 
attended  by  an  appalling  slaughter  of  human  lives.  The  total 
loss  in  the  engagements  between  the  two  armies  which  had 
ended  in  the  defeat  of  McClellan  (June  26-July  2,  1862)  was 
36,000  men,  and  this  was  but  a  foretaste  of  greater  destruction 
yet  to  come.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  country 
trembled  at  the  prospect,  or  that  many  in  the  North  who  had 
hitherto  supported  the  war  should  draw  back,  seeking  some 
compromise  by  which  the  slaughter,  too  terrible  to  be  contem- 
plated, might  be  averted,  even  at  the  expense  of  Southern 
independence. 

At  this  time  President  Lincoln  was  contemplating  his  proc- 
lamation of  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves.  It  was  to  be  a  war 
measure  and  justified  on  that  ground,  not  on  any  principle  of 
the  inherent  wrong  and  evil  of  slavery.  The  object  of  the  war 
was  the  preservation  of  the  Union.  If  it  would  embarrass  the 
South  in  the  prosecution  of  its  purpose  to  free  the  slaves,  then 
the  act  of  emancipation  would  be  justified.  On  political  grounds 
it  might  have  been  questioned  whether  such  an  act  would  be 
constitutional.  As  a  war  measure,  put  forth  in  an  emergency, 
it  assumed  a  different  aspect. 

To  have  put  forth  his   proclamation  immediately  after  the 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  133 

disastrous  defeat  of  the  Northern  army  before  Richmond  would 
have  been  impolitic, — a  cry  of  distress  or  an  acknowledgment 
of  inability  on  the  part  of  the  Union  forces  to  cope  with  the 
enemy  on  equal  terms.  Lincoln  therefore  held  it  back  until 
some  victory  of  Union  arms  should  constitute  a  more  fitting 
opportunity.  On  September  22,  1862,  the  public  announcement 
was  made  that  on  the  first  day  of  January,  1863,  the  slaves  should 
be  declared  free  in  every  part  of  the  country  at  war  with  the 
United  States. 

It  was  one  of  the  traits  of  Phillips  Brooks  that  he  never  failed 
to  share  in  the  popular  convictions,  sheathing  his  critical  faculty 
where  the  people's  faith  was  concerned,  clinging  even  to  those 
faiths  when  evidence  was  against  them.  Thus  he  found  it  hard 
to  give  up  his  faith  in  McClellan,  thinking  that  if  he  had  been 
let  alone  he  might  have  done  the  great  things  which  were  ex- 
pected of  him. 

On  his  return  to  Philadelphia,  he  writes,  to  his  father, 
under  date  of  September  12,  1862: 

"  Found  everything  here  a  good  deal  excited ;  troops  starting  off 
for  Harrisburg  under  the  governor's  orders,  and  some  people 
trying  to  make  out  that  Philadelphia  is  in  danger.  Of  this 
latter,  however,  there  is  no  fear,  and  business,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  withdrawal  of  a  great  many  men  for  military  service, 
goes  on  as  usual.  Every  one  is  counting  much  on  the  heavy 
rain  of  last  night,  which  has  made  a  tremendous  flood,  and  it  is 
hoped  has  hemmed  in  the  enemy  between  impassable  rivers. 
At  any  rate  everybody  here  is  confident  and  full  of  faith  in  the 
government  and  in  McClellan." 

"  September  15,  1862.  It  is  hard  to  think  that  we  have  been 
in  such  danger  as  some  people  imagine,  but  no  doubt  all  the 
precautions  taken  were  wise,  and  the  enthusiasm  they  have 
stirred  up  will  do  much  to  help  on  enlistment.  Almost  all  the 
able-bodied  men  of  my  church  are  off  to  Harrisburg." 

"  September  19,  1862.  So  the  rebels,  as  we  hear  to-night,  have 
got  off  again  in  Virginia.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  for  I  have  been  in 
hopes  that  they  were  going  to  make  an  end  of  them  in  Maryland. 
Then  Harper's  Ferry  was  a  bad  business,  and  so  is  this  which 
we  hear  to-day  from  Mumfordville.  Still  McClellan  has  won  a 
victory,  and  we  are  a  little  nearer  the  end  than  we  were.     I 


i34  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

heard  yesterday  that  I  was  to  be  asked  to  the  chaplaincy  of  a 
new  regiment  now  raising  here.     If  I  am  I  think  I  shall  go." 

' '  September  26,  1862.  What  a  week  this  has  been  in  the  history 
of  the  country, — the  greatest  in  one  point,  I  believe,  since  the 
country  was  born.  We  have  heard  the  Proclamation  of  Freedom 
promised  from  the  President's  chair.  I  am  sure  for  once  we  may 
go  with  the  'Tribune'  and  say,  God  bless  Abraham  Lincoln. 
What  do  they  say  about  it  in  Boston?  Our  troops  are  fast  com- 
ing back  to  Philadelphia,  who  have  been  off  to  the  Border  and 
into  Maryland,  for  the  protection  of  the  State.  They  have  done 
well,  and  deserve  the  welcome  they  are  getting  on  their  return. 
It  comes  pretty  hard  to  buckle  down  to  work  again  in  times  like 
these." 

"  I  am  sincerely  glad  to  see  the  President's  Proclamation.  We 
have  been  getting  ready  for  it  for  a  year.  It  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  we  are  wholly  ready  for  it  now.  If  we  are  as  I  hope 
we  are,  then  it  is  the  greatest  and  most  glorious  thing  our  land 
has  ever  seen.  We  have  broken  off  at  last  our  great  iniquity 
and  may  go  on  our  way  with  some  hope  of  a  blessing." 

In  October  Mr.  Brooks  went  to  New  York  in  order  to  see  for 
the  first  time  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  assembled  in 
General  Convention.  He  was  at  this  moment  meditating  a 
great  purpose  under  the  growing  conviction  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  the  Church  and  of  a  Christian  minister  to  sustain,  by  sym- 
pathy, by  act,  and  spoken  word,  the  government  of  the  country 
struggling  in  mortal  throes.  On  these  points  the  sympathies  of 
the  delegates  were  greatly  divided.  The  Bishop  of  Michigan,  in 
his  opening  sermon,  had  declared  that  the  introduction  of  politics 
into  a  religious  synod  would  be  "high  treason  against  God." 

Resolutions  offered  declaring  the  sympathy  of  the  Church 
with  the  government  were  tabled.  The  alleged  reason  for 
refusing  to  act  was  that  the  Church  was  a  purely  religious  organ- 
ization, and  in  that  capacity  knew  nothing  of  the  State  or  its 
concerns.  There  was  also  a  feeling  that  if  the  Convention  re- 
frained from  any  action,  the  reconciliation  would  be  easier  with 
their  Southern  brethren  when  the  war  should  be  over.  It  may 
be  said  in  explanation  of  this  attitude  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
that  its  membership  was,  to  a  large  extent,  in  the  Democratic 
party,  with  whom  the  question  of  State  rights  was  the  chief 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  135 

political  issue  involved  in  the  war.  There  were  many  who 
conscientiously  held  that  any  State  had  a  right  to  secede  from 
the  Union,  and  that  the  action  of  the  government  in  attempting 
to  restrain  such  a  step  was  unconstitutional.  The  Episcopal 
Church  during  the  war,  and  for  some  years  preceding,  had  become 
a  house  of  refuge  for  those  who  disliked  political  preaching. 
For  a  time  it  seemed  doubtful  which  way  the  General  Con- 
vention representing  the  Episcopal  Church  would  move.  As 
the  days  went  on,  the  party  which  stood  for  sympathy  with 
the  government  grew  stronger.  The  politics  which  had  been  so 
deprecated  had  exerted  their  influence  upon  the  delegates. 
The  time  was  drawing  near  for  the  annual  elections,  and  the 
Hon.  Horatio  Seymour,  candidate  for  the  governorship  in 
New  York,  was  a  member  of  the  lower  house.  It  would  damage 
the  Democratic  party  and  its  candidates  in  New  York  and  else- 
where if  the  Episcopal  Church  should  refuse  to  speak,  for  such 
refusal  would  be  interpreted  as  sympathy  with  the  rebellion. 
Resolutions  at  last  were  passed,  very  moderate  in  tone,  almost 
colorless,  but  they  answered  the  purpose.  In  the  House  of 
Bishops,  despite  its  outward  decorum,  there  was  more  aggressive 
activity  as  well  as  a  clearer  conception  of  the  situation  than  in  the 
lower  house. 

It  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  Bishop  Hopkins  of  Vermont,  as  the 
presiding  bishop,  to  draft  the  Pastoral  Letter,  wherein  the 
bishops,  according  to  custom,  address  the  Church  at  large. 
After  he  had  read  to  the  bishops  the  letter  he  had  prepared,  in 
which  the  issues  of  the  hour  were  studiously  waived,  Bishop 
Mcllvaine  of  Ohio  presented  another  letter,  which  was  offered  as 
a  substitute,  and  accepted  by  the  bishops,  committing  the 
Church  to  sympathy  with  the  government  in  the  prosecution  of 
the  war.  Bishop  Mcllvaine  deserves  to  be  remembered  in  this 
connection.  He  had  been  one  of  the  three  commissioners  sent 
to  England  for  the  purpose  of  explaining  the  situation,  and  con- 
ciliating English  sentiment  in  high  circles  toward  the  North. 
Bishop  Hopkins  did  not  submit  quietly  under  this  condemnation 
of  his  attitude.  He  published  a  protest  against  the  Pastoral 
Letter  of  the  House  of  Bishops,  which  was  sent  broadcast 
through  the  country.  All  this  was  at  a  moment  when  the 
depression  throughout  the  country  in  consequence  of  Northern 


i36  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

defeats  was  at  its  lowest,  when  to  many  the  prospect  seemed 
almost  hopeless. 

"  October  24,  1862.  I  own  that  we  are  in  the  darkest  moment 
of  the  war  and  that  our  elections  and  some  others  do  look 
wretchedly,  but  is  n't  our  cause  just  as  good  as  it  ever  was,  and 
does  n't  it  seem  as  if  all  through  the  war  there  had  been  a  design 
of  Providence  to  put  off  the  settlement  so  that  when  it  did  come 
it  might  be  thorough?  Certainly  if  we  had  conquered  at  the 
first  Bull  Run,  we  should  have  been  only  too  likely  to  have  put 
things  back  on  essentially  the  old  basis,  on  some  Crittenden 
compromise  or  something  of  that  kind,  and  in  a  few  years  had 
the  whole  work  to  do  over.  We  hope  for  better  things  than 
that.  I  agree  with  you  perfectly  about  the  Convention.  Its 
shilly-shallying  was  disgraceful.  It  was  ludicrous,  if  not  so  sad, 
to  see  those  old  gentlemen  sitting  there  for  fourteen  days,  trying 
to  make  out  whether  there  was  a  war  going  on  or  not,  and 
whether  if  there  was  it  would  be  safe  for  them  to  say  so.  How- 
ever they  may  represent  the  learning  of  the  church,  they  cer- 
tainly don't  represent  its  spirit.  Some  few  men,  however,  stood 
out  well,  Vinton  and  Goodwin  and  Clarkson,  Randall  and  others, 
and  the  House  of  Bishops  has  put  out  a  capital  letter,  written  by 
Bishop  Mcllvaine.  I  am  going  to  read  it  to  my  people  to- 
morrow morning.  .  .  .  No,  don't  give  up  the  old  church 
yet.  She  's  got  a  thick  crust  of  old-fogyism,  but  she  's  all  right 
at  the  core,  and  I  hope  will  show  it  yet." 

Whether  in  consequence  of  the  excitement  caused  by  the  war, 
or  for  other  reasons,  Mr.  Brooks  seems  to  have  been  somewhat 
restless  and  dissatisfied  with  his  position.  He  would  have 
liked  to  do  something  heroic.  He  talked  of  going  to  California, 
"to  evangelize  the  country  there."  It  appeared  to  him  as 
offering  great  attractions. 

"  November  8,  1862.  It  seems  almost  wrong  to  be  going  on 
with  parish  work  here  when  there  is  so  much  of  a  more  stirring 
kind  going  on  everywhere,  but  I  have  not  succeeded  in  getting  a 
place  as  chaplain,  and  with  this  parish  on  my  hands  do  not  think 
I  have  any  right  to  give  up  the  ministry  and  go  into  the  ranks." 

On  Thanksgiving  Day  he  spoke  his  mind  on  the  subject  of 
slavery,  despite  the  conservatism  of  the  General  Convention, — 
and  committed  himself  and  his  congregation  so  far  as  it  was  in 
his  power  to  the  support  of  the  nation.  His  text  was  Zechariah 
xiv.  6,  7 :  "And  it  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day,  that  the  light 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  137 

shall  not  be  with  brightness  and  with  gloom :  but  it  shall  be  one 
day  which  is  known  unto  the  Lord ;  not  day,  and  not  night :  but 
it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at  evening  time  there  shall  be  light." 
He  had  now  lost  his  faith  in  McClellan,  but  out  of  the  depression 
of  the  hour,  there  was  springing  up  a  more  deeply  rooted  faith 
in  the  Divine  will. 

"  November  21,  1862.  I  believe  in  the  removal  of  McClellan, 
because,  much  as  he  has  done  for  us,  he  seemed  to  be  incapable 
of  doing  the  last  great  thing,  putting  out  the  rebellion  by  an 
earnest,  vigorous  campaign,  and,  much  as  I  like  him,  I  think 
no  man  ought  to  be  allowed  to  stand  between  us  and  peace  by 
victory,  which  is  our  great  object  now." 

A  few  weeks  later  he  saw  General  McClellan  at  a  reception  to 
him  in  Philadelphia,  and  gives  this  estimate: 

"  I  saw  considerable  of  the  general,  and  am  not  a  stronger 
McClellan  man  for  having  seen  him.  He  does  n't  look  like  a 
great  man.  His  face  does  n't  show,  either,  special  refinement. 
He  is  pleasant  and  affable,  and  the  soldiers  collected  to  greet  him 
were  very  enthusiastic.  He  looks  like  a  good,  sensible,  bright 
engineer  and  not  much  more." 

To  his  brother  George,  on  his  way  to  his  regiment  in  North 
Carolina,  he  had  written: 

"  November  7,  1862.  How  strange  it  seems  for  two  of  us  to  be 
in  correspondence  at  such  queer  places.  It  did  n't  look  much 
like  it  when  we  used  to  be  growing  up  so  quietly  in  Chauncy 
Street.  If  your  experience  is  like  mine  you  will  find  yourself 
wondering  about  your  own  identity  sometimes;  wondering 
whether  you  are  yourself  or  whether  you  are  n't  somebody  else. 
The  best  way  when  you  get  into  such  a  condition  is  to  go  to  work 
and  reassure  yourself  by  writing  a  long  letter  to  some  member 
of  the  family  (me,  for  instance),  and  so  get  yourself  back  where 
you  ought  to  be  as  one  of  the  Brooks  Boys. 

It  looks  now  as  if  there  were  work  cut  out  for  you  to  do  on  your 
arrival  in  North  Carolina.  The  papers  this  very  morning  tell  of 
an  expedition  from  Newbern  of  12,000  men,  probably  to  Golds- 
boro.  I  hope  something  will  come  of  it  all.  McClellan  seems 
to  be  pushing  on  slowly  but  certainly  in  Virginia,  and  altogether, 
in  spite  of  the  elections,  things  look  better.     .     .     . 

"  Of  course  your  eyes  are  all  where  ours  are, — on  Burnside. 


138  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

What  a  job  he  has  in  hand.  Everybody  has  great  faith  in  him, 
though  Philadelphia  is  sore  about  the  removal  of  her  pet  son, 
McClellan.  Things  certainly  look  more  encouraging  and  hope- 
ful; and  next  Thanksgiving  Day  I  trust  we  may  be  all  safe  at 
home,  rejoicing  in  victorious  peace. 

"  Things  at  home  seem  to  be  going  on  pretty  much  their  usual 
course.  I  had  a  long  letter  from  Mother  the  other  day.  They  all 
miss  you  terribly  there.  My  own  impression,  strengthened  every 
day  since  I  first  left  the  paternal  roof,  is  that  we  have  one  of  the 
happiest  homes  the  world  can  show.  Don't  you  begin  to  think 
so?" 

"  December  5,  1862.  We  had  an  anti-slavery  sermon  at  Holy 
Trinity  on  Thanksgiving  which  does  n't  seem  to  have  done  any 
special  harm.  The  church  was  very  full,  and  I  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  alluding  in  praise  to  the  Bishop's  letter  before  that  old 

rebel,  ,  who  was  present.     What    do    you    think   of    the 

President's  message?  It 's  badly  put  together,  but  a  very  plain, 
straightforward,  understandable  document,  it  seems  to  me.  If 
all  our  government  was  as  true  as  he  is,  we  should  see  different 
success,  but  with  Washington  full  of  corruption  and  treachery 
no  wonder  if  it  takes  us  two  or  three  times  as  long,  and  costs  us 
two  or  three  times  as  much,  as  it  ought  to." 

The  year  1862  closed  with  widespread  despondency  among 
the  people.  The  fall  campaign  had  been  unfavorable  to  the 
Union  arms.  The  loss  also  of  life  had  been  enormous.  At  the 
battle  of  the  Antietam,  September  17,  1862,  where  victory 
was  left  doubtful,  22,000  men  had  perished,  and  of  these 
12,000  belonged  to  the  Union  army.  Burnside  had  been  de- 
feated near  Fredericksburg  on  the  Rappahannock,  December  13, 
1862,  with  a  loss  of  12,000,  and  a  Confederate  loss  of  4000. 
Again,  in  Eastern  Tennessee,  at  the  battle  of  Murfreesboro, 
December  31,  1862,  where  the  Union  army  under  the  command 
of  Thomas  and  Sheridan  at  least  held  its  own  and  repelled  the 
assault  of  the  Confederates,  out  of  80,000  men  engaged,  23,000 
was  the  number  of  the  killed  and  wounded.  The  situation  was 
appalling,  and  as  yet  the  beginning  of  the  end  was  not  visible. 
The  fall  elections  had  been  discouraging  to  the  Republican 
party.  Some  who  had  hitherto  supported  the  government  were 
now  in  favor  of  intervention  from  abroad  or  compromise  at 
home. 
s^       The  Emancipation  Proclamation  issued  by  President  Lincoln 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  139 

on  the  first  day  of  the  New  Year,  1863,  was  an  event  of  high 
importance  to  Phillips  Brooks.  As  he  interpreted  its  meaning, 
the  war  had  for  its  purpose  a  moral  issue.  God  was  in  the  con- 
flict. There  was  now  to  be  evidence  afforded  of  a  progressive 
movement  in  human  affairs.  The  doctrine  of  an  increasing 
purpose  in  the  life  of  humanity,  he  had  hitherto  gathered  from 
the  records  of  history.  Now  it  was  to  be  made  visible  before  his 
eyes.  There  followed  a  deeper  faith,  a  vaster  enthusiasm,  a 
stronger  sense  of  the  reality  of  spiritual  things,  the  concentra- 
tion of  the  will  on  the  great  issue,  in  the  confidence  that  God's 
will  was  thus  subserved.  He  was  taking  a  great  step  forward  in 
his  own  experience.  The  consciousness  of  power  and  authority 
marked  his  utterances.  He  had  no  longer  misgivings  about  the 
result  of  the  protracted  struggle.  The  tone  of  despondency 
disappears,  to  give  way  to  exultation.  The  failure  of  this  or 
that  leader,  disasters  and  defeats,  were  no  ground  for  depression. 
He  had  completely  vanquished  the  lower  mood  in  which  he  had 
trusted  to  any  one  man  to  become  the  saviour  of  the  country. 
To  his  father  he  writes  on  the  15th  of  January:  "I  cannot  feel 
as  blue  about  the  war  as  you  do.  Nor  is  it  time  to  look  out  yet 
for  the  effects  of  the  Emancipation  Proclamation.  Military 
success  is  the  first  thing  we  want.  We  have  had  it  already  in 
Tennessee,  and  we  shall  see  it  yet  at  Vicksburg."  This  was 
written  nearly  six  months  before  General  Grant  won  his  victory 
there.  When  Burnside  was  removed  he  wrote,  "There  is  this 
comfort  at  least,  that  the  mcfre  we  try  and  find  to  be  the  wrong 
ones,  the  nearer  we  must  be  coming  to  the  right  one  all  the  time." 
He  had  no  longer  any  illusions  about  McClellan.  "What  did 
you  think  of  Lincoln's  letter  to  McClellan  that  came  out  in  the 
court  martial  and  was  published  in  the  papers  of  this  morning 
[January  17th]?  It  looks  as  though  Old  Abe  was  just  as  good  a 
general  as  the  young  Napoleon  after  all." 

There  are  but  few  allusions  to  the  fortunes  of  the  war  in  the 
letters  written  at  this  time  by  the  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks. 
Her  mind  was  preoccupied  by  one  absorbing  issue — the  spiritual 
history  of  her  son  George,  who  had  now  reached  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  without  presenting  himself  for  confirmation. 
He  was  the  third  son,  born  in  1838,  and  if  any  son  was  a  favorite 
with  his  parents  more  than  another  it  was  he.     He  was  attrac- 


i4o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tive  in  his  personal  appearance,  manly  and  sincere,  with  a 
singular  mixture  of  sweetness  and  strength.  In  making  his 
start  in  life,  he  had  met  with  several  disappointments  and  bore 
them  without  complaint  and  with  no  diminution  of  courage. 
But  on  the  subject  of  religion,  he  made  no  sign,  as  the  years 
went  by,  resembling  Phillips  in  the  reserve  with  which  he 
guarded  himself.  After  his  enlistment  and  just  before  he 
joined  his  regiment,  he  was  confirmed  at  Trinity  Church, 
September  28,  1862.  That  event  counted  with  his  mother  for 
more  than  the  victories  or  defeats  of  armies. 

After  his  confirmation,  the  veil  of  reserve  removed,  George 
spoke  freely  of  his  religious  experience.  The  change  to  him 
had  been  momentous  and  thorough.  His  religious  life  was 
deepened  by  the  events  of  the  war.  In  his  Company,  a  prayer- 
meeting  was  held  daily  morning  and  evening  conducted  by  the 
Captain.  "He  told  me,"  said  the  Chaplain  of  his  Company, 
"that  he  had  never  had  full  assurance  of  his  pardon  and  accept- 
ance till  he  became  a  soldier;  that  in  the  battle  of  Kingston, 
under  the  terrible  fire  of  the  enemy,  his  Saviour  came  to  him  as 
never  before,  declared  His  presence,  revealed  His  love,  and  held 
his  soul  in  His  hands." 

Phillips  Brooks  was  now  to  be  called  into  another  experience, 
which  hitherto  had  been  far  away  from  him.  His  father  unex- 
pectedly appeared  in  Philadelphia  on  his  way  to  the  South, 
summoned  by  tidings  of  the  dangerous  illness  of  George  Brooks. 
But  even  before  the  father  had  started  on  his  journey  the  end 
had  come.  The  telegram  that  his  brother  had  died  of  typhoid 
pneumonia  on  February  10th  reached  Phillips  on  the  16th,  and  he 
started  at  once  for  home.  In  the  darkened  house  they  waited 
for  a  week  in  silence,  no  word  reaching  them  from  the  father, 
who  was  slowly  making  the  journey  home  with  the  body  of  his 
son.  With  these  days  of  waiting  was  associated  the  lines  of 
Tennyson,  the  prayer  for  the  ship  bearing  the  loved  remains: 

"  Sphere  all  your  lights  around,  above; 

Sleep,  gentle  heavens,  before  the  prow; 
Sleep,  gentle  winds,  as  he  sleeps  now, 
My  friend,  the  brother  of  my  love." 

While  they  waited  at  home  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  a  sermon 
on  the  text  (Luke  xxiv.  18),  "Art  thou  a  stranger  in  Jerusalem, 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  141 

and  hast  not  known  the  things  which  are  come  to  pass  there  in 
these  days?"  On  returning  to  Philadelphia,  he  wrote  at  once 
to  his  mother: 

"  Tuesday  afternoon,  March  3,  1863. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, — I  am  back  here  again  and  trying  to 
collect  myself  to  go  to  work  again  to-morrow  morning.  Ever 
since  I  left  you  my  thoughts  have  been  with  you  all  at  home 
and  I  feel  like  a  stranger  here  among  the  things  that  were  so 
familiar  only  two  weeks  ago.  These  two  weeks  seem  to  me  like 
a  strange  sort  of  dream,  and  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  such  a 
change  has  come  over  our  family  life  since  the  last  time  I  was 
sitting  here  at  my  desk.  And  yet  I  find  it  hard  to  be  sad  or 
mournful  about  it.  I  cannot  think  that  George  himself,  as  he 
looks  at  us,  wishes  us  to  be  sad  or  mournful.  I  have  been  looking 
over  and  over  again,  all  last  night  and  this  morning,  the  whole 
life  that  we  have  lived  with  him.  I  cannot  remember  one 
moment  whose  memory  is  painful  to  me.  I  cannot  recall  a 
single  quarrel  that  I  ever  had  with  him,  and  I  suppose  the  other 
boys  would  say  the  same.  I  cannot  bring  back  one  look  that 
was  not  all  kindness,  or  one  act  that  was  not  pure  and  good,  or 
one  word  that  was  not  bright  and  truthful.  I  envy  him  his  life 
and  death.  I  would  gladly  lie  down  and  die  to-night  if  I  could 
look  back  on  such  a  spotless  life  as  his,  and  find  my  faith  as 
simple  and  secure  for  the  future  as  his  was.  How  beautiful  his 
religion  was.  He  has  taught  me  for  one,  as  I  never  knew  before, 
what  Jesus  meant  when  he  told  of  'receiving  the  kingdom  of 
God  as  a  little  child.'  Such  a  perfect  trust  as  his  I  know  is  in 
the  power  of  any  of  us  to  reach  as  he  reached  it,  and  yet  I  do 
not  dare  to  expect  it  ever  perfectly  for  myself,  but  am  determined 
to  live  and  pray  and  struggle  for  it,  and  shall  rejoice  if  I  can 
have  a  seat  at  last  somewhere  in  sight  of  the  perfect  happiness 
and  glory  which  he  is  in  to-day  and  will  be  in  forever.  My 
thoughts  of  home  will  always  be  different  now.  I  shall  always 
think  of  George  as  there  among  you.  I  do  not  care  about  Mount 
Auburn.  I  don't  care  ever  to  go  there  again,  till  I  am  carried 
as  he  was  yesterday.  I  want  to  think  of  him  as  being  about  the 
old  house  and  always  one  of  your  group,  making  it  happier  and 
holier  by  his  memory  and  influence,  just  as  he  always  made  it 
beautiful  and  bright  when  he  was  in  the  body.  And  I  want  to 
feel  him  there  too,  helping  me  and  making  me  fitter  for  every 
duty  with  his  own  courage  and  cheerfulness  and  blessed  faith. 

"  I  find  work  enough  waiting  for  me,  and  shall  go  about  it 
happily,  but  always  looking  for  the  time  when  it  will  be  all  done, 
and  we  shall  be  with  Christ  and  him. 

"  God  bless  you  all, 

"Phill." 


i42  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

During  the  following  week  he  was  thinking  much  of  George, 
his  life  and  death.  The  confirmation  of  Arthur  Brooks,  the 
fifth  son,  on  Easter  day,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  was  to  him 
the  fruit  of  George's  experience,  and  as  though  he  were  speaking 
to  them  from  heaven.  Into  the  work  of  his  parish  he  now 
entered  with  greater  zeal,  taking  on  additional  work.  Con- 
nected with  the  parish  was  a  night  school,  held  in  the  chapel 
on  week-day  evenings,  a  mothers'  meeting,  and  an  outside  Bible 
class,  taught  by  ladies  connected  with  the  parish.  To  these  he 
gave  his  personal  presence  and  oversight.  He  continued  to  hold 
the  deep  interest  of  his  Bible  class  on  Saturday  evenings,  he  lec- 
tured Wednesday  evenings  in  the  church  to  large  congregations, 
and  he  gave  a  preparatory  lecture  for  the  monthly  communion. 
On  the  first  Sunday  of  each  month  came  children's  church  in 
the  afternoon.  To  the  Sunday-school  he  gave  special  attention. 
He  prepared  his  candidates  for  confirmation,  not  only  in  a  series 
of  lectures,  but  made  it  an  obligation  to  call  upon  each  can- 
didate for  personal  conversation.  Each  week  he  tried  to  rescue 
as  much  time  as  possible  for  reading  and  study.  Each  week 
as  a  rule  he  records  the  writing  of  a  sermon.  Rarely  a  Sunday 
passed  that  he  did  not  preach  three  times,  very  often  reading  the 
service  twice  in  addition.  If  he  found  himself  disengaged  on 
Sunday  evenings,  he  went  to  church  somewhere  for  the  purpose 
of  hearing  others  preach.  In  the  spring  of  this  year,  1863,  he 
was  engaged  in  soliciting  subscriptions  for  the  purchase  of  a 
neighboring  church  in  order  to  make  it  a  chapel  for  Holy  Trinity. 
To  those  who  looked  on  he  appeared  to  carry  his  work  with  ease ; 
there  was  an  air  of  spontaneity  about  his  preaching,  as  though 
it  came  without  effort  or  anxiety.  But  he  writes:  "You  have 
no  idea  how  fatiguing  this  work  of  speaking  in  public  is.  It 
does  n't  look  like  much  to  talk  for  half  an  hour  to  a  room  full  of 
people,  but  it  often  leaves  me  tired  out  in  mind  and  body  and 
good  for  nothing." 

The  service  in  his  crowded  church  on  Fast  Day  was  marked  by 
unusual  solemnity  and  impressiveness.  "The  congregation 
listened  with  the  most  profound  attention,  and  apparently  gave 
a  sincere  and  hearty  response  to  his  remarks."  The  burden  of 
his  prophetic  soul  was  the  sin  of  slavery. 

"  It  was  not  timely  or  proper  to  preach  [so  ran  the  report  of  his 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  143 

remarks],  but  would  it  not  be  a  mockery  before  God  to  say- 
that  we  have  sinned,  we  have  broken  Thy  laws,  we  have  polluted 
Thy  Sabbath  and  received  in  vain  Thy  grace,  without  alluding 
to  the  greatest  sin  of  all, — the  blackest  stain  upon  our  country 
and  the  cause  of  all  the  ruin  and  bloodshed  and  affliction  that 
have  been  visited  on  our  land, — the  black  sin  of  slavery  ?  Have 
we  not  that  duty  to  perform,  to  pray  for  the  removal  of  that 
great  crime,  that  dark  spot  upon  our  country's  history?  And 
was  this  all?  Were  there  not  here  among  us  persons  whom  we 
meet  daily  in  social  intercourse  who  give  not  even  a  faltering 
support  to  the  administration  of  the  laws,  who  are  not  using 
the  means  that  God  has  given  them  for  the  suppression  of  re- 
bellion and  treason;  men  who  deprecate  the  extermination  of 
the  evil  that  has  caused  all  our  troubles?  Was  it  not  as  much 
our  duty  to  pray  for  the  rebuke  of  those  traitors  in  the  North 
as  for  the  discomfiture  of  the  openly  declared  enemy  in  the 
South?  It  was  the  duty  of  the  congregation  to  cultivate  that 
firm,  unwavering  loyalty  to  the  government  that  would  recog- 
nize no  distinction  between  the  open  foe  and  the  secret  enemy." 

Among  the  phases  of  the  larger  ministry  to  which  Phillips 
Brooks  was  impelled  was  his  protest  against  the  indifference, 
even  the  avowed  hostility,  toward  the  government  in  the  pros- 
ecution of  the  war.  He  had  written  under  date  of  March  23, 
1863: 

"  I  have  been  away  two  days  this  week  preaching  in  New  Jer- 
sey. It  was  disheartening  to  see  the  state  of  public  feeling  there, 
the  apathy  or  opposition  to  the  administration  that  has  made 
that  little  State  disgraceful.  But  surely  things  are  looking  very 
much  better  everywhere.  It  seems  as  if  the  more  we  suffer  the 
more  we  must  feel  ourselves  committed  to  finish  completely 
the  great  work  we  have  undertaken." 

It  was  said  of  an  Episcopal  church  in  Philadelphia  that  "in 
the  war-time  the  clergyman  could  not  read  the  prayer  for  the 
President  without  causing  a  rustle  of  silken  skirts,  worn  by  the 
ladies  who  insisted  at  this  point  upon  rising  from  their  knees."  l 
A  Philadelphia  clergyman,  writing  of  Mr.  Brooks's  relation  to 
the  war,  says: 

"The  Union  League  [Club]  was  founded  to  counteract  this  bane- 
ful influence  of  society.     I  accompanied  Phillips  Brooks  to  the 

1  Phillips  Brooks,  in  Beacon  Biographies,  by  M.  A.  De  Wolfe  Howe, 
p.  26. 


i44  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

opening  meeting  (February,  1863),  and  he  made  one  of  those 
bold  Union  speeches  for  which  he  became  famous,  although  his 
parish  was  a  new  organization,  heavily  in  debt,  and  he  was  in 
danger  of  losing  some  of  his  most  important  members  by  his 
decided  action.  When  most  pulpits  were  silent  and  some 
adverse,  his  gave  forth  no  uncertain  sound.  His  manly,  cour- 
ageous utterances  did  much  to  turn  the  tide  of  society  in  favor 
of  the  abolition  of  slavery  and  the  preservation  of  the  Union." 

He  does  not  appear  to  mind  the  inevitable  opposition  he  en- 
countered. In  a  letter  dated  June  6,  1863,  he  refers,  a  rare 
thing  with  him,  to  the  criticism  he  is  meeting: 

"  I  have  nothing  particular  to  tell  you  to-day  about  myself,  and 
so  I  will  let  you  see  what  other  people  say  about  me  by  enclosing 
a  slip  from  our  Copperhead  journal  which  some  kind  friend  has 
just  sent  me.  Is  n't  it  terrible  to  think  of  this  fearful  plot  to 
fill  the  churches  and  schools  with  New  England  radicals,  and 
gradually  seize  on  all  Philadelphia,  and  make  another  Boston  of 
it?  I  suppose  a  part  of  our  plan  must  be  to  get  possession  of  the 
financial  institutions;  so  just  hold  yourself  in  readiness  to  come 
on  and  take  a  radical  cashiership  as  soon  as  things  are  ready  for 
it.  This  sort  of  feeling  is  very  strong  here,  and  is  making  a 
pretty  hard  fight,  but  it  can't  stand.  The  world  moves.  Vicks- 
burg  is  not  ours  yet,  but  everything  looks  promising,  and  perhaps 
we  do  not  know  how  near  we  are  to  the  end.  At  any  rate  the 
conviction  is  stronger  every  day  that,  long  or  short,  there  's 
nothing  to  be  done  but  fight  it  out,  and  '  put  down  the  rebellion.'  " 

An  intimate  friend  of  Brooks,  speaking  of  this  phase  of  his 
ministry,  writes: 

"  I  despair  of  making  the  young  men  of  to-day  understand  what 
it  cost  in  those  days  to  be  lord  of  one's  own  soul.  Through  that 
weary  time,  what  an  overflowing  reservoir  of  moral  force,  of 
hope,  of  courage,  of  high  resolve,  Brooks  was  to  all  of  us  Then, 
as  ever,  his  presence  was  an  inspiration.  There  were  dark  days 
— days  when,  as  we  met  on  a  street  corner,  after  some  bloody 
reverse  of  our  armies,  he  could  only  wring  my  hand  and  say, 
'Isn't  it  horrible?'  and  pass  on  gloomily:  days  when  it  was 
easy  to  take  counsel  of  one's  meaner  fears  and  cry  for  peace  at 
any  price,  and  try  to  patch  up  any  miserable  cabin  of  refuge  from 
the  storm  which  beat  upon  our  hearts.  But  his  heart  never 
flinched  or  quailed.     His  light  ever  shone  out  clear." 

A  victory  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee,  the  commander  of  the 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  145 

Confederate  forces,  over  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  May, 
1863,  left  the  North  unprotected,  and  it  was  decided  to  carry 
the  war  into  Pennsylvania.  At  first  it  was  hard  to  realize  that 
the  State  was  actually  in  danger  of  invasion.  Men  refused  to 
believe  it.  War  may  be  wrong  and  a  great  evil,  the  duty  of  non- 
resistance  may  have  its  place  among  the  Evangelical  precepts, 
but  when  a  city  is  in  danger  of  invasion  something  should 
be  done  to  repel  the  invaders.  So  the  situation  appeared  to 
Phillips  Brooks: 

"  Saturday,  June  27,  1863. 

"  Dear  Father, — I  suppose  you  must  be  wondering  a  little 
what  is  the  state  of  mind  in  this  poor  bethreatened  city.  I  wish 
you  could  be  here  and  see  how  dead  and  apathetic  men  can  be 
with  an  enemy  almost  at  their  doors.  I  don't  think  that  Lee  is 
coming  to  Philadelphia,  but  there  certainly  is  threatening  enough 
of  it  to  make  us  get  ready  if  he  did  come.  Nothing  is  doing 
here  at  all.  Yesterday  the  Union  League  decided  that  it  might 
be  well  to  get  up  a  regiment,  but  as  yet,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  not 
more  than  2000  men  have  gone  from  Philadelphia,  and  the  men 
who  are  protecting  the  line  of  the  Susquehanna  are  New  Yorkers 
and  New  Englanders.  I  am  ashamed  of  Philadelphia  and  Penn- 
sylvania, and  proud  as  usual  of  New  England.  Or  course  all 
our  town  talk  is  of  the  invasion.  We  do  not  think  that  Phila- 
delphia is  very  likely  to  be  their  aim.  Evidently  they  are  trying 
to  delude  us,  and  will  more  likely  strike  either  at  Pittsburg  or  at 
Baltimore.  Some  timid  people  here  are  a  good  deal  scared.  I 
will  let  you  know  if  there  is  any  danger.  I  see  George's  regi- 
ment is  after  this  new  raid.  How  much  hard  life  and  terrible 
work  the  dear  boy  has  escaped.     I  think  of  him  always. 

"  Good-by — one  week  more  (unless  I  am  kept  here  by  danger  of 
a  capture)  and  I  am  with  you.     Love  to  Mother. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"Phill." 

Cn  Monday,  June  29,  he  records  in  his  diary;  "Meeting  of  the 
clergy  of  all  the  churches  to  offer  their  services  to  the  Mayor." 
This  remark  is  illuminated  by  the  following  reminiscence : 

"From  Cooper's  study  proceeded  one  movement  that  the  chroni- 
cle of  those  crowded  years  should  not  quite  lose  from  view.  The 
enemy  was  at  the  gate.  Lee's  army  had  invaded  Pennsylva- 
nia, was  before  Harrisburg,  was  threatening  Philadelphia.  The 
Quaker  City  was  carrying  non-resistance  to  its  last  consequence, 
was  folding  its  hands  and  shaking  in  its  shoes,  and  waiting  for 


i46  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Providence  or  the  general  government  to  come  to  its  rescue.  It 
was  a  panic  of  stupor  akin  to  a  dumb  ague.  Brooks,  Cooper,  and 
the  rest  of  us  assembled  on  a  Monday  morning  in  Cooper's  study, 
waxed  hot  at  the  local  inaction.  If  laymen  would  do  nothing  it 
was  time  for  the  clergy  to  move.  We  did  move  on  the  mo- 
ment. We  drew  up  a  paper  offering  our  services  for  the  public 
defence.  We  would  not  take  up  arms,  but  we  could  shoulder 
shovels  and  dig  trenches.  Several  clerical  meetings  were  in  ses- 
sion that  noon,  and  we  sent  delegates  to  rouse  them.  With 
Brooks  and  the  venerable  Albert  Barnes  at  the  head  of  the  pro- 
cession we  stormed  the  mayor's  office,  a  hundred  or  more  strong, 
and  asked  to  be  set  at  work  on  the  defences  of  the  city.  We 
retired,  bought  our  spades  and  haversacks,  and  waited  for  or- 
ders.    The  example  served  its  purpose." 

As  the  situation  still  seemed  uncertain,  Mr.  Brooks  wrote  home 
that  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  leave  his  post  for  the  annual 
holiday : 

"July  4,  1863.  The  fact  is  I  don't  like  to  leave  here  while 
things  are  just  in  the  present  condition ;  not  that  I  think  there  is 
any  danger  of  their  coming  here,  but  people  are  a  good  deal  ex- 
cited, and  till  the  terrible  battle  of  this  week  is  over,  and  its 
results  well  confirmed,  I  shall  not  leave.  It  will  probably  be  only 
a  short  delay,  and  I  will  write  you  next  week  just  as  soon  as  I  see 
my  way  clear  to  getting  off.  Everything  to-day  looks  promis- 
ing; we  are  going  to  beat  and  bag  their  army,  I  believe,  and  then 
the  war  is  about  over.  I  am  sorry  to  shorten  my  vacation,  but 
I  must  not  leave  just  now." 

The  events  of  these  weeks  culminated  in  the  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg, where  50,000  men  were  lost  out  of  170,000  engaged.  The 
entries  in  his  pocket  diary,  brief  as  they  are,  show  the  excitement 
of  the  moment. 

"Saturday,  July  4,  1863.  Services  in  Holy  Trinity.  I  read 
and  made  a  short  address.  All  the  forenoon  down  town.  Great 
news  of  Lee's  repulse  by  Meade.  .  .  .  Evening  at  Union  League. 
Still  good  news. 

"Sunday,  July  5,  1863.  Fifth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  I  read, 
spoke,  and  administered  the  communion.  During  the  commun- 
ion service  news  came  of  Lee's  rout,  and  I  announced  it  to  the 
congregation.     God  be  praised. 

"Monday,  July  6,  1863.  Evening.  Started  for  the  battlefield 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Sanitary  Commission.  Arrived  at  Bal- 
timore about  four  o'clock  the  next  morning. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  147 

"Tuesday,  July  7,  1863.  Spent  all  day  making  arrangements 
and  trying  to  get  off  to  Gettysburg.  Started  in  freight  train  at 
seven  o'clock  p.m.,  and  spent  the  night  in  the  cars,  arriving  at 
Hanover  at  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

"Wednesday,  July  8,  1863.  Almost  all  day  at  Hanover.  Left 
for  Gettysburg  at  five  o'clock  p.m.  Arrived  about  seven.  Slept 
in  loft  of  a  tar-shop. 

"Thursday,  July  9,  1863,  a.m.  At  Sanitary  Commission  Tent 
near  the  depot.     Then  all  over  the  battlefield. 

"  Friday,  July  10,  1863.  All  day  at  the  hospital  of  the  Second 
Division  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  distributing  clothes  and  writing 
letters  for  the  men.     Very  tired  at  night. 

Saturday,  July  11,  1863.  To  the  hospital  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Reserves,  p.m.,  among  the  rebel  prisoners  in  the  Third 
Corps.     Terrible  need  and  suffering. 

"Sunday,  July  12,  1863.  All  day  among  the  rebel  prisoners  in 
the  Third  Corps  Hospital. 

"Monday,  July  13,  1863.  All  day  travelling  to  Philadelphia. 
Arrived  about  10.30  p.m." 

On  the  1 6th  of  July,  1863,  he  returned  to  his  home  in  Boston, 
where  he  remained  with  his  family  for  a  few  weeks  before  making 
another  tour  of  the  White  Mountains.  The  first  thing  was  to 
turn  to  Mount  Auburn  on  a  visit  to  the  new-made  grave.  Since 
he  was  last  at  home  a  change  had  been  made  by  his  father's  fam- 
ily in  their  church  relations;  they  had  given  up  their  pew  at  St. 
Paul's  Church  and  migrated  to  Trinity  Church,  then  situated  on 
Summer  Street.  At  the  invitation  of  Bishop  Eastburnjhe  preached 
at  Trinity  Church  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  the  26th  of  July.  It 
was  midsummer,  and  the  congregation  was  so  small  as  to  seem 
almost  invisible.  The  meagre  attendance  may  have  been  owing 
to  the  circumstance  that  no  announcement  had  been  made  that 
he  was  to  preach.  But  there  was  one  present  who  made  the  occa- 
sion the  subject  of  reminiscences  in  later  years.  He  had  called 
on  Bishop  Eastburn  in  his  house  on  Tremont  Street  oppo- 
site the  Common,  and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  asked  the 
bishop  where  he  should  go  to  church  the  following  Sunday.  The 
bishop  answered:  "I  think  you  had  better  go  to  my  church, 
for  I  shall  have  there  a  young  man  from  Philadelphia  named 
Brooks,  who  is  esteemed  to  be  somebody,  and  I  want  you  to  hear 
him  preach." 

"On  Sunday  morning,  therefore,  I  went  to  Trinity  Church, 


u8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

which,  the  reader  will  remember,  was  the  old  Trinity  in  Summer 
Street,  then  a  quiet  quarter,  still  retaining  many  roomy  houses 
occupied  by  old  Boston  families.  Entering  its  gray  portals  I 
perceived  that  I  might  sit  where!  liked,  for  there  was  scarce  any- 
body in  the  church.  .  .  .  When  the  time  for  the  sermon  arrived, 
a  person  who  had  been  sitting  silent  in  the  chancel,  muffled  in  a 
black  gown,  emerged — or  rather  projected  himself — in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  pulpit.  A  tall,  thin  figure  rushed  up  the  pulpit  steps. 
Before  fairly  reaching  the  top  of  them  a  voice  called  out  the  text, 
and  instantly  broke  into  a  speech  of  most  astonishing  rapidity, 
quite  beyond  anything  I  had  ever  experienced  or  imagined  of 
human  utterance.  .  .  .  As  soon  as  I  recovered  from  my  surprise, 
and  the  mind  could  catch  its  breath,  so  to  speak,  and  begin  to 
keep  up  with  the  preacher's  pace,  I  perceived  that  what  I  was 
hearing  was  a  wonderful  sermon,  such  as  would  oftenest  be  called 
brilliant,  perhaps,  but  is  better  described  as  glowing  and  lambent. 
The  text  was  the  verse  of  St.  Paul  about  seeing  now  "through  a 
glass,  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face,"  and  the  discourse  contained 
material  for  a  score  of  sermons,  so  rich  was  it  in  high  thought  and 
apt  illustration  and  illuminative  turns  of  phrase.  I  fancy  that 
in  those  days  Dr.  Brooks  used  illustrations  more  profusely  than 
in  later  years.  .  .  .  Possibly  I  myself  might  find  that  sermon  too 
ornate  for  my  maturer  taste,  but  I  know  the  impression  it  then 
made  upon  me  was  not  of  over-ornamentation,  but  of  thought  in- 
trinsically and  aboundingly  rich,  and  I  believe  that  if  it  shall  see 
the  light  among  any  forthcoming  collection  of  Bishop  Brooks's 
literary  remains,  I  shall  gain  from  reading  it  the  same  impression 
that  it  produced  so  many  years  ago." 

The  writer  of  this  account  was  impressed  with  the  contrast 
between  the  few  hearers  who  listened  to  Phillips  Brooks  on  that 
midsummer  day  in  1863  and  the  thousands  afterwards,  in  the 
glorified  new  Trinity,  who  dwelt  on  every  note  of  his  voice, — 
between  the  young  Brooks  who  was  thought  to  be  somebody  and 
the  man  who  became  the  successor  of  Bishop  Eastburn.  But 
appearances  are  deceitful.  In  Mr.  Brooks's  diary  for  the  follow- 
ing Monday,  it  reads,  "Mr.  George  Dexter  [the  senior  warden] 
called  to  talk  about  my  coming  to  Trinity  Church."  For  six  years 
the  parish  had  him  in  view,  before  the  result  was  accomplished. 

A  few  days  were  spent  in  Boston  after  his  return  from  the 
mountains,  during  which  he  wrote  as  usual  his  sermon  in  order 
to  be  ready  for  his  first  Sunday  in  Philadelphia.  When  he 
reached  Philadelphia  on  the  5th  of  September  he  records  his  arrival 
with  a  sigh,  "So  vacation  's  over!"     He  found  the  city  "quiver- 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  149 

ing  with  excitement."  The  time  for  the  fall  elections  was  near. 
Governor  Curtin,  the  Republican  candidate  for  governor  of  the 
State,  was  opposed  by  Judge  Woodward  as  the  Democratic  can- 
didate. Not  only  did  excitement  run  high  in  political  circles,  but 
in  ecclesiastical,  for  things  were  happening  which  roused  the  in- 
dignation of  the  Episcopal  clergy.  The  story  is  now  a  curious 
one  merely,  relating  to  the  action  of  Dr.  Hopkins,  the  bishop  of 
Vermont,  and  referred  to  here  because  of  Phillips  Brooks's  con- 
nection with  it. 

Bishop  Hopkins  had  resisted  the  action  of  the  General  Conven- 
tion in  1862,  when  it  gave  its  approval  to  the  war  and  its  support 
to  the  government,  as  the  introduction  of  politics  into  a  sacro- 
sanct assembly.  Among  other  views,  he  held  that  the  Bible  sanc- 
tioned slavery,  an  opinion  to  which  he  had  given  expression  in 
his  American  Citizen.  But,  although  slavery  was  a  divine  institu- 
tion, yet  he  thought  it  should  be  abolished,  and  that  this  was  the 
destiny  reserved  for  it.  The  Democratic  party  in  Pennsylvania 
now  proposed  to  make  use  of  him  in  the  heated  canvass  between 
Curtin  and  Woodward.  Six  gentlemen  of  Philadelphia  had  re- 
quested his  permission  to  republish  his  well-known  views  on 
slavery,  which  he  had  given  in  a  tract  issued  in  1861,  and  known 
as  The  Bible  View  of  Slavery.  The  original  motive  in  writing  this 
tract  had  been  to  cool  down  if  possible  the  fiery  zeal  of  the  abo- 
litionists. Bishop  Hopkins  gave  his  consent  to  the  reissue  of  the 
tract,  and  in  June,  1863,  it  had  been  reprinted  by  the  Society  for 
the  Diffusion  of  Political  Knowledge  in  New  York  Soon  after 
it  was  taken  up  and  circulated  by  the  Democratic  clubs  through- 
out the  country,  but  chiefly  in  Pennsylvania,  as  an  electioneering 
pamphlet. 

Such  a  proceeding  could  not  go  unchallenged  without  commit- 
ting the  Episcopal  Church  in  Pennsylvania  to  a  tacit  approval 
of  this  extraordinary  document.  The  clergy  of  Philadelphia 
were  called  together  by  Bishop  Potter;  a  protest  was  drawn  up 
and  intrusted  to  a  committee  who  should  procure  signatures  to  it. 
Of  this  committee  Mr.  Brooks  was  a  member,  and  by  no  means 
an  inactive  one.  Indeed,  he  was  so  prominent  that  he  was  in- 
correctly suspected  and  accused  of  being  the  author  of  the  pro- 
test. But  he  did  what  he  could  to  procure  signatures  for  it, 
directing  circulars  with   his  own  hand  to  be  sent  broadcast 


is©  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

throughout  the  State.  The  protest  was  signed  by  one  hundred 
and  sixty  of  the  clergy,  a  very  large  majority  of  those  in  the 
diocese.  This  prompt  and  decisive  action  may  have  had  its 
influence  on  the  election.  Governor  Curtin  was  elected  by  a 
majority  of  20,000.  and  Judge  Woodward,  the  defeated  candi- 
date, withdrew  from  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  To  these 
and  other  incidents  Mr.  Brooks  alludes  in  his  home  letters: 

"October  3,  1863.  Last  Sunday  afternoon  I  went  out  and 
preached  to  our  colored  regiment  at  Cheltenham.  It  was  new 
sort  of  work,  but  I  enjoyed  it.  They  are  splendid-looking  fellows. 
To-day  they  have  been  parading  through  the  city,  and  seem  to 
have  surprised  everybody  by  their  good  soldierly  looks.  Have 
you  seen  what  a  stir  has  been  raised  up  by  Bishop  Hopkins's 
slavery  letter  and  by  our  clerical  protest  against  it  ?  It  may  look 
to  you  like  something  of  a  tempest  in  a  teapot,  but  I  can  assure 
you  that  the  letter  was  doing  a  great  deal  of  harm,  and  that  our 
remonstrance  has  been  widely  welcomed.  One  of  the  Copper- 
head papers  the  other  day  did  me  the  honor  to  assume  that  I  had 
a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,  and  read  me  a  long  lecture  on  the  mod- 
esty becoming  young  clergymen." 

"October  17,  1863.  It  is  worth  another  victory  of  our  armies 
thus  to  have  conquered  disloyalty  here  at  the  North,  and  to  have 
got  our  heel  on  the  neck  of  the  Copperhead.  If  you  had  been 
here  I  think  you  would  have  been  as  much  surprised  as  I  have 
been  at  the  radical  character  of  this  campaign  which  has  just 
closed.  And  it  has  not  been  merely  Republican,  but  anti- 
slavery;  not  merely  anti-slavery,  but  abolition  all  the  way 
through.  If  this  war  had  n't  done  anything  else  so  far,  at  any 
rate  it  has  made  us  an  anti-slavery  people,  and  begun  the  end  of 
this  infernal  institution.  I  spent  Tuesday  night  at  the  League 
House,  and  have  seldom  seen  such  an  excitement  as  there  was 
when  the  news  came  in  and  the  result  gradually  became  certain. 
Judge  Woodward  has  resigned  his  seat  on  my  vestry,  and  adver- 
tised his  pew  for  sale.  I  am  sorry,  for  he  is  a  very  pleasant  man, 
and  has  been  one  of  my  kindest  friends.  I  presume  we  shall  get 
along  without  him,  but  I  wish  he  could  have  stayed  among  us." 

A  difficult  problem  in  American  life  had  been  created  when  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation  of  Mr.  Lincoln  had  produced  its 
effect.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  negroes  were  thrown  adrift, 
free,  indeed,  but  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of  freedom;  hitherto 
cared  for,  with  no  sense  of  responsibility  for  their  maintenance, 
and  now  obliged  to  seek  their  own  support ;  ignorant,  untrained, 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  151 

unfit  for  the  burden  placed  so  suddenly  upon  them.  Mr.  Brooks 
was  among  the  very  first  to  recognize  the  importance  of  imme- 
diate action.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Freedmen's  Relief 
Association.  He  makes  mention  of  frequent  visits  to  the  negro 
regiment  in  camp  near  Philadelphia,  watching  them  on  parade, 
addressing  them  at  their  Sunday  services.  He  took  special  pride 
in  a  colored  Sunday-school  at  the  corner  of  13th  and  Race  Streets. 
At  public  gatherings  he  made  important  speeches  in  behalf  of  the 
needs  and  interests  of  the  colored  people.  He  was  anxious  that 
the  Episcopal  Church  should  be  identified  with  this  philanthropic 
work. 

This  devotion  to  their  interests  by  Phillips  Brooks  was  gratefully 
recognized  by  the  colored  people  in  Philadelphia  and  elsewhere. 
It  would  sometimes  show  itself  in  amusing  ways,  as  at  evening 
parties  and  receptions,  when  it  was  understood  that  no  one 
could  expect  much  attention  from  the  colored  waiters  if  Phillips 
Brooks  were  present.  Long  years  afterward  his  acts  of  kindness 
in  1863  were  gratefully  remembered.  When  he  died,  resolutions 
were  passed  by  the  Bethel  Literary  and  Historical  Association, 
of  Washington,  "recalling  his  noble  and  brave  words  for  freedom 
and  enfranchisement  in  the  dark  days  of  the  war,  the  prominent 
part  he  took  in  opening  to  us  the  street  cars  in  Philadelphia,  and 
this  at  the  risk  both  of  personal  violence  and  social  ostracism." 

As  Thanksgiving  Day  approached  in  1863,  Phillips  Brooks 
was  preparing  himself  to  give  expression  to  a  people's  gratitude, 
by  rising  to  some  mount  of  vision  whence  the  way  could  be 
discerned  by  which  the  nation  had  been  led  through  the  years 
of  darkness,  of  agony,  and  of  sacrifice.  Already  he  foresaw  the 
beginning  of  the  end.  The  victory  of  General  Meade  at  Gettys- 
burg, and  the  capture  of  Vicksburg  by  General  Grant,  in  July, 
followed  by  the  advance  of  Grant  and  the  significant  results  at 
Chattanooga  in  November,  pointed  to  one  conclusion, — the  ob- 
ject of  the  war  had  been  really  gained,  however  long  the  time 
which  must  elapse  before  its  full  acknowledgment.  The  war 
should  have  ended  here. 

Again  the  great  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was  crowded  to 
its  utmost  capacity,  seats  were  placed  in  the  aisles,  and  many 
were  standing,  as  the  preacher  announced  his  text:  "There- 
fore, behold,  the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that  it  shall  no 


152  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

more  be  said,  The  Lord  liveth,  that  brought  up  the  children 
of  Israel  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt;  but,  The  Lord  liveth,  that 
brought  up  the  children  of  Israel  from  the  land  of  the  north, 
and  from  all  the  lands  whither  he  had  driven  them:  and  I  will 
bring  them  again  into  their  land  that  I  gave  unto  their  fathers." 
(Jeremiah  xvi.,  14,  15).  The  next  day,  November  27,  1863, 
came  the  request  for  the  publication  of  the  sermon,  signed  by 
some  sixty  names  of  the  leading  citizens  of  Philadelphia.  It  was 
immediately  issued  with  the  title  "  Our  Mercies  of  Reoccupation." 
There  are  some  features  of  this  sermon  which  have  now  only  an 
historical  interest,  but  even  in  treating  these  the  sentences  glow 
with  the  splendor  of  the  preacher's  deep  conviction,  his  exuberant 
vitality,  his  rich  imagination.  He  laments  that  the  Christian 
Church  did  not  take  the  lead  in  the  protest  against  slavery. 
"  Year  after  year  the  Church  stood  back  while  they  who  fought  the 
battle  went  out  from  her;  the  whole  movement  against  slavery 
became  not  only  unchurchly  but  openly  infidel,  disowning  all 
interest  in  every  presentation  of  that  Christianity  of  whose 
spirit  and  operation  it  was  nevertheless  of  itself  the  legitimate 
result." 

There  were  those  who  rejoiced  that  slavery  was  disappear- 
ing, but  "our  rejoicing,"  they  said,  "is  for  the  white  man;  it  is 
not  for  the  negro  we  care."     To  this  the  preacher  replied: 

"It  is  for  the  negro  we  care.  It  is  our  fault,  and  not  his,  that 
he  is  here.  It  is  our  fault,  inherited  from  the  fathers,  that  has 
kept  in  most  utter  bondage,  and  most  cruel  bondage  too,  genera- 
tion after  generation  of  men  who  have  proved  themselves  the 
most  patient,  long-suffering,  affectionate,  docile  race  of  servants 
that  ever  lived,  and  who  now,  in  the  little  glimmering  of  a  chance 
that  is  given  them,  are  standing  between  us  and  the  rebels,  fight- 
ing battles,  receiving  wounds,  dying  deaths,  that  belong  more  to 
us  than  to  them,  fighting  splendidly,  working  faithfully,  learning 
eagerly,  enduring  endlessly,  laying  hold  on  a  higher  life  with  an 
eagerness  that  has  no  parallel  in  savage  history." 

He  warns  his  congregation  against  the  fragments  of  old 
prejudices  still  clinging  about  them: 

"Let  us  get  rid  of  these.  If  the  negro  is  a  man,  and  we  have 
freed  him  in  virtue  of  his  manhood,  what  consistency  or  honor  is 
it  which  still  objects  to  his  riding  down  the  street  in  the  same  car 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  153 

with  us  if  he  is  tired,  or  sitting  in  the  same  pew  with  us  if  he 
wants  to  worship   God?" 

But  the  charm  of  the  sermon,  its  literary  power,  its  human 
appeal,  lay  in  the  application  of  its  subject,  the  "  Mercies  of 
Reoccupation."  The  preacher  was  developing  the  fundamental 
principle  that  the  reoccupation,  after  the  loss  and  deprivation  with 
its  accompanying  struggle  to  regain,  is  greater  than  was  the  first 
occupation.  He  applied  this  truth  in  various  ways.  He  spoke  of 
the  reoccupation  of  the  national  territory.  It  was  strange  that 
men  should  talk  of  the  slowness  or  ineffectiveness  of  the  war  in 
view  of  what  had  been  gained  by  the  victories  of  the  past  year : 
"It  is  hard  to  keep  up  with  telegrams  that  tell  us  day  by  day  of 
the  progressive  occupation  by  the  power  of  the  government.  .  .  . 
The  great  river,  which  is  the  lordly  West,  flows  open  with  the  light 
of  the  Union  on  it  from  source  to  sea  .  .  .  The  vast  domain  west 
of  the  Mississippi,  with  all  its  untold  possibilities,  those  two 
States,  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  constituting  the  keystone  of 
our  broad  arch,  the  sweep  of  Union  victory  has  reclaimed  for- 
ever to  freedom.  ...  In  our  own  fair  State  we  have  a  tale  of 
reoccupation  too  to  tell.  The  silent  graves  on  that  hill  front  at 
Gettsyburg  are  voiceful  with  the  promise  that,  come  what  will, 
our  Northern  soil  has  felt  the  last  footprint  of  the  oppressor  and 
invader.  .  .  .  This  reoccupation  is  to  be  greater,  to  make  the 
region  which  it  gives  us  more  distinctly  our  own,  than  it  was  by 
the  first  occupation.  The  nation  is  just  coming  to  its  inherit- 
ance. .  .  .  Those  who  come  after  us  will  look  back  and  see  that 
the  work  of  this  year  was  of  greater  moment  in  the  history  of 
the  world  than  that  of  any  Revolutionary  year.  They  will  see 
that  those  years  inevitably  came  to  be  nothing  without  the 
completing  process  of  these." 

"But  infinitely  more  important  than  the  mere  reoccupation  of 
territory  is  the  resumption  by  this  American  people  in  a  higher 
sense,  the  full  occupation  of  the  government  of  their  fathers,  the 
re-entrance  into  the  principles  and  fundamental  truths  of  the 
nationality  which  they  inherited,  but  which  up  to  the  beginning 
of  this  war  they  had  not  begun  worthily  to  occupy  and  use.  .  .  . 
More  than  fourscore  years  ago  this  nation  declared  itself  free  and 
independent, — the  new  ground  of  a  new  experiment  in  national, 
social,  and  individual  life.    .    .    .    How  very  partially  that  bright 


i54  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

announcement  has  been  fulfilled.  We  have  never  half  claimed 
our  independence.  In  our  timid  regard  for  foreign  opinion,  in  our 
blind  regard  for  foreign  methods,  ...  we  have  only  very 
slightly  made  our  own  the  high  privilege  of  independent  life. 
Believe  me,  it  will  not  be  the  least  of  the  blessings  that  God  sends 
us  if  by  any  means,  by  a  development  of  our  own  powers,  by  new 
exigencies  leading  us  into  the  necessity  of  untried  methods,  by  the 
individuality  of  suffering,  ...  by  the  terrible  disappointment 
which  discovers  the  shallowness  of  loud-mouthed  European  phil- 
anthropy, by  the  selfishness  of  the  old  worlds  that  will  not,  or  the 
blindness  of  old  worlds  that  can  not,  see  how  grand  and  holy  a 
task  a  younger  world  is  called  to  do, — if  by  any  means  He  gives 
us  out  of  the  isolation  of  our  national  struggle  a  larger  entrance 
into  the  independent  life,  the  separate  and  characteristic  devel- 
opment of  government,  art,  science,  letters,  practical  religion, 
and  social  character,  which  is  the  wide  domain  into  which  He  led 
our  nation,  and  whose  splendid  size  it  has  taken  us  almost  a  hun- 
dred years  to  find." 

There  is  another  reoccupation  in  the  circumstance  that  party 
lines  in  the  republic  have  been  broken,  and  that  loyalty  to  the 
country  has  taken  the  place  of  all  other  issues.  But  the  highest 
of  all  the  reoccupations  which  by  God's  grace  it  has  been  per- 
mitted to  make  this  year  is  the  reoccupation  of  the  disused  duties 
and  privileges  of  justice,  liberty,  and  human  brotherhood. 

"You  do  not  expect  me,  I  do  not  think  you  want  me,  to  stand 
here  to-day  without  thanking  God  that  the  institution  of  African 
slavery  in  our  beloved  land  is  one  big  year  nearer  to  its  inevitable 
death  than  it  was  last  Thanksgiving  Day.  On  that  day  certain 
hopeful  words  were  spoken  from  this  pulpit  which  groped  about 
in  the  darkness  and  timidly  thought  they  saw  the  signs  of  light. 
To-day,  will  any  man  or  woman  blame  us,  as  we  stand  in  the 
anticipation  of  certainty,  and  cry  above  the  opened  grave  of 
slavery,  that  only  waits  till  its  corpse  be  brought  to  it  with  the 
decency  its  reverend  age  demands,  Thank  God!  thank  God!  the 
hateful  thing  is  dead!  I  am  speaking  solemnly;  I  am  thinking 
earnestly;  I  am  speaking  as  a  man  whose  heart  is  too  glad  for 
utterance,  in  the  washing  from  his  country's  robe,  even  though  it 
be  in  the  red  water  of  her  children's  blood,  of  such  a  stain  as  she 
has  worn  before  the  nations  through  these  years  of  her  melancholy 
beauty.  What  has  done  it?  Not  the  Proclamation  of  last  New 
Year's  Day,  though  we  ought  to  thank  God,  as  not  the  least 
mercy  of  these  times,  that  we  have  had  a  man  to  lead  us  so  honest 
and  so  true,  so  teachable  at  the  lips  of  the  Almighty,  as  to  write 
those  immortal  words  that  made  a  race  forever  free.     Not  any 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  155 

public  document,  not  any  public  act,  has  done  the  work;  nothing 
but  the  hand  of  God,  leading  back  His  chosen  people  into  the  land 
of  universal  freedom,  into  which  he  led  the  fathers,  and  out  of 
which  the  children  went  so  woefully  astray.  Which  God  is 
greater, — He  who  led  the  fathers  in,  or  He  who  leads  the  children 
back?  At  any  rate,  the  Lord  grant  us  to  be  truer  to  the  new 
charter  of  emancipation  than  (we  own  it  with  shamefacedness 
and  contrition)  we  have  been  to  the  declaration  of  freedom  and 
human  equality  which  the  fathers  wrote." 

One  attentive  observer  who  was  studying  the  effect  of  the 
sermon  noted  that  the  congregation  left  the  church  in  subdued 
silence. 

The  sermon  had  a  large  circulation,  being  placed  for  sale  in  the 
principal  bookstores  of  the  large  cities.  It  was  recognized  as 
something  more  than  a  sermon,  or  a  masterpiece  of  inspired 
oratory;  it  was  an  event  in  the  history  of  the  times.  No  such 
comprehensive  utterance  was  made  during  the  war.  The  news- 
papers, in  giving  abstracts  of  it  and  expressing  admiration, 
agreed  in  commenting  upon  the  fact  that  such  a  sermon  should 
have  been  delivered  by  an  Episcopal  clergyman  and  in  one 
of  the  wealthiest,  most  fashionable  churches  in  Philadelphia. 

From  this  public  recognition  of  the  sermon  one  may  turn  aside 
for  a  moment  to  follow  its  effect  in  the  home  circle.  "I  want," 
wrote  his  father,  "a  dozen  copies  of  that  sermon.  Don't  let  your 
modesty  stand  in  the  way;  /  want  them  and  at  least  that  number." 
Happy  and  proud  in  the  consciousness  that  he  had  evidence 
indisputable  of  the  greatness  of  his  son  as  a  citizen  as  well  as  a 
preacher,  the  father  sent  the  sermon  to  his  kinsfolk  and  acquaint- 
ances. He  had  only  heard  of  it  when  he  asked  that  copies  should 
be  sent  him,  and  had  not  read  it.  After  he  had  read  it,  he  wrote : 
"I  should  have  two  years  ago  repudiated  much  of  its  doctrine, 
but  now  go  almost  the  whole  of  it."  Those  to  whom  he  sent  it 
were  not  all  of  one  mind  about  its  doctrine.  He  collected  their 
testimony  and  sent  it  to  his  son.  Among  the  congratulations 
were  those  of  his  kinsmen  Wendell  Phillips  and  Edward  Everett. 
The  Hon.  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  in  acknowledging  the  sermon, 
expressed  the  hope  that  it  will  not  be  long  before  Phillips  Brooks 
comes  to  Boston  as  rector  of  one  of  its  churches. 

The  references  to  the  sermon  by  Mr.  Brooks  himself  are  brief 
in  his  home  letters.     He  notes  its  effect  on  the  congregation: 


156  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"All  is  going  on  at  this  church  as  usual.  One  pew  offered  for 
sale  immediately  after  Thanksgiving  Day,  and  four  applicants 
to  buy  it  at  once.  We  are  weeding  out  fast,  and  I  have  now 
an  almost  entirely  loyal  church  with  not  an  inch  of  room  to  rent. 
I  am  glad  you  liked  my  sermon.  I  send  you  with  this  the 
criticism  on  it  of ,  one  of  our  great  Copperheads,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  Age  a  day  or  two  ago.  I  have  just  been  reading 
over  Dudley  Tyng's  famous  sermon  of  seven  years  ago.  What 
a  brave  thing  it  was  to  do!     Thank  God  anybody  can  do  it  now." 

For  some  reason,  not  wholly  explained,  he  was  perturbed  and 
at  times  depressed.  To  the  charge  that  he  was  not  writing  as 
"jolly"  letters  as  he  used  to  do,  he  replied:  "I  am  perfectly 
happy;  everything  goes  with  such  lovely  smoothness  that  I  should 
be  a  rascal  if  I  was  anything  but  happy."  There  are  only  a  few 
hints  as  to  his  reading;  he  mentions  Renan's  Vie  de  Jesus,  and 
the  writings  of  Pascal,  but  without  comment.  To  his  older 
brother  he  gave  a  sketch  of  a  week's  work,  to  show  how  his  time 
was  occupied: 

"1533  Locust  Street,  October  31,  1863. 
"  Dear  William, — If  there  is  any  cheerfulness  in  my  letter  to- 
day, it  will  have  to  come  from  inside,  and  not  outside  the  house. 
It  is  raining  as  hard  as  Philadelphia  only  knows  how  to  rain,  and 
all  the  curtains  up  hardly  give  me  light  enough  to  write  by. 
Fortunately  my  sermon  is  done,  or  it  would  be  hard  to  keep  it 
from  turning  into  a  very  gloomy  homily  on  such  a  day  as  this. 
What  shall  I  write  about?  Suppose  I  give  you  my  biography  for 
a  week,  so  that  you  can  know  pretty  much  what  all  my  weeks  are. 
Well,  Monday  morning  I  got  up  pretty  tired  with  Sunday's  work, 
and  went  down  town  after  breakfast,  as  I  generally  do  nowadays, 
to  do  up  my  limited  business,  paying  bills,  shopping,  etc.  At 
one  o'clock  I  went  to  one  of  our  hospitals  to  see  some  Boston  men 
who  had  found  me  out  and  sent  to  me  to  help  get  their  dis- 
charges; sick  and  wounded,  they  needed  help  and  sympathy  bad 
enough.  Then  all  the  afternoon  I  went  about  making  calls  in  my 
parish,  and  spent  the  evening  studying  in  my  room.  Tuesday  I 
had  a  funeral  to  attend,  which  took  me  almost  all  the  morning; 
then  I  went,  as  I  always  do  on  Tuesdays,  and  dined  at  Mr.  Cooper's 
with  Strong  and  Richards,  and  spent  the  evening  at  Dr.  Mitch- 
ell's Wednesday  was  my  morning  to  receive  visitors  at  my 
study  in  the  church  on  all  sorts  of  business,  religious  and  secular, 
from  men  begging  money  to  men  joining  the  church.  Then  I 
went  out  and  made  some  more  calls,  and  in  the  evening  made  an 
address  to  a  Christian  Work  Association    in  St.  Philip's  (Mr. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR  157 

Cooper's)  Church.  Thursday  I  went  to  work  on  a  sermon  which 
I  am  to  preach  to-morrow  night  before  the  Bishop  White  Prayer 
Book  Society.  It  did  n't  go  very  well,  and  I  labored  over  it  all 
the  forenoon.  I  went  and  dined  at  Mr.  Ashhurst's,  and  in  the 
evening,  after  making  one  call,  settled  down  before  my  fire  and 
read  and  studied  till  twelve  o'clock.  Friday  I  went  at  the  ser- 
mon again,  and,  with  lots  of  interruptions  which  kept  taking  me 
away,  worked  till  dinner  time.  After  dinner  made  a  few  calls, 
and  went  and  took  tea  with  a  new  parishioner.  Home  by  nine 
o'clock,  and  at  the  sermon  again  for  an  hour.  This  morning, 
being  sick  and  tired  of  the  poor  old  sermon,  I  got  up  and  finished 
it  off  before  breakfast,  and  since  breakfast  have  got  ready  my 
lecture  for  to-night,  and  my  sermon  for  the  children  to-morrow 
afternoon  Pepper  that  over  with  lots  of  people  coming  to  see 
me  on  important  business,  and  you  have  my  week's  work.  It 
is  about  a  type  of  all — a  quiet,  humdrum,  and  not  unpleasant  life, 
with  an  extra  sensation  now  and  then." 

Changes  were  taking  place  in  the  family  circle.  Frederick  had 
left,  and  the  mother  had  been  called  again  to  her  task  of  packing 
the  boxes.  Arthur  was  now  in  his  first  year  at  Harvard.  Only 
John,  the  youngest  son,  was  left  at  home.  "We  are  a  small 
figure,"  so  writes  his  father  to  Phillips.  "It  is  lonesome  indeed 
after  our  long  table  we  have  enjoyed  so  many  years." 

The  month  of  December  brought  more  than  its  share  of  anni- 
versaries. After  Thanksgiving  came  his  own  birthday  on 
December  13,  and  the  birthday  of  George  followed  on  the  18th. 
Christmas  was  the  great  day  of  the  year.  To  these  he  added  the 
night  of  December  31,  keeping  it  by  a  vigil  in  the  church.  To 
one  who  hoarded  life  as  a  rich  treasure,  there  was  danger  of 
too  intense  and  ever-present  consciousness  of  its  flight.  He  noted 
too  curiously  whether  the  celebration  of  the  feast  was  adequate, 
whether  he  had  risen  to  or  fallen  short  of  its  demands. 

"December  26,  1863. — To-night  I  have  a  Christmas  tree  for 
the  children  of  a  little  negro  Sunday-school  which  I  started  a 
few  squares  from  my  church.  We  have  got  about  a  hundred 
of  the  funniest  little  darkies  there  that  you  ever  saw.  I  wish 
you  could  be  with  us.     They  sing  like  larks." 

The  following  letter  indicates  how  deep  had  been  the  perturba- 
tion of  spirit: 

"December  20,  1863. — I  have  decided  [he  writes  to  Frederick 


158  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Brooks],  although  the  decision  is  not  mentioned  yet  to  any  one, 
and  you  are  to  accept  it  in  perfect  confidence  and  not  mention 
it  to  any  one,  not  even  in  writing  home,  to  give  up  my  parish,  and 
take  the  professorship  of  ecclesiastical  history  in  the  Divinity 
School.  ...  I  shall  make  the  change  in  a  month  or  two. 
Remember,  you  are  not  to  mention  it  to  anybody.  Let  me 
hear  what  you  think  of  it." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
i 864-1 865. 

CALL  TO  THE  PHILADELPHIA  DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  EX- 
TRACTS FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  SPEECHES  IN  BEHALF 
OF  NEGRO  SUFFRAGE.  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR. 
THE  DEATH  OF  LINCOLN.  THE  HARVARD  COM- 
MEMORATION.      DEPARTURE    FOR    EUROPE. 

The  election  to  the  chair  of  ecclesiastical  history  in  the  Phila- 
delphia Divinity  School  would  not  have  been  made  without  the 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Brooks,  or  if  the  trustees  of  the  school  had  not 
been  encouraged  by  his  tacit  approval.  And  it  must  be  assumed 
that  he  knew  his  own  mind  when  he  decided  to  accept  the  call. 
At  this  moment  he  was  at  the  height  of  his  popularity  and  success 
in  Philadelphia ;  his  church  was  thronged  with  eager  hearers.  If 
some  prominent  citizens  had  left  because  of  his  anti-slavery  teach- 
ing, yet  many  others  were  waiting  to  become  purchasers  of  any 
vacant  pews.  His  power  as  a  preacher,  or  as  a  platform  speaker 
on  religious  or  philanthropic  occasions,  was  widely  recognized,  his 
services  were  in  constant  demand,  and  whenever  he  spoke  he 
never  failed  to  rouse  the  enthusiasm  of  his  audience.  It  had 
become  almost  a  commonplace  in  the  newspaper  reports  to  say 
that  the  speech  of  the  occasion  was  by  Phillips  Brooks.  Every- 
where he  went  there  was  curiosity  to  see  as  well  as  to  hear  him. 
Even  in  these  early  years  of  his  career  he  seems  to  have  taken 
the  lustre  off  from  other  guests  or  speakers  who  might  be  associ- 
ated with  him.  There  was  something  strange  in  it  all,  and  diffi- 
cult to  be  accounted  for,  but  it  was  very  real  and  genuine. 

The  reasons  which  he  gave  for  making  the  change  from  the 
pulpit  to  the  professor's  chair  are  briefly  stated  in  a  letter  to  his 
father : 

"January  7,  1864. 

"  Dear  Father, — I  want  to  write  to  you  about  a  very  impor- 

?59 


i6o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tant  matter  (to  me) ,  probably  one  of  the  most  important  I  shall 
ever  have  to  meet.  It  has  been  vaguely  in  prospect  for  some 
time,  but  not  in  such  a  state  that  I  could  speak  about  it  until 
now.  You  may  be  sure  I  have  not  settled  this  in  a  hurry.  I 
want  you  and  Mother  to  understand  just  exactly  what  are  my 
reasons  for  such  a  decision. 

"  In  the  first  place  the  great  need  of  the  Church  (you  surely 
know  it)  is  for  ministers.  And  any  one  who  can  go  to  the  root  of 
that  difficulty,  and  help  to  train  the  right  sort  of  men,  is  doing  a 
better  and  more  fundamental  work  than  any  mere  parish  minister 
could  do.  Then  the  great  need  of  our  seminaries  is  young  men  for 
professors.  We  have  always  had  old  men.  We  want  younger 
ones,  and  I  have  got  youth  and  energy,  if  nothing  else,  to  give. 
Again,  the  parish  is  much  more  easily  provided  for  than  the  chair. 
Any  man  they  choose  to  call  will  take  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  with  its  splendid  congregation  and  its  $4000  a  year. 
There  are  not  a  great  many,  certainly  none  with  families,  who  can 
afford  to  come  to  the  obscure  professorship  at  $1800  a  year. 

"  Then  a  more  personal  reason.  I  need  it  for  myself.  In  the 
whirl  of  this  life  which  I  am  living  now  I  get  no  time  for  study. 
Everything  is  going  out,  nothing  is  coming  in,  and  I  find  myself 
needing  a  quieter  and  more  studious  life.  I  shall  both  do  more 
and  get  more  good  in  my  professor's  chair." 

Other  reasons  for  the  change  might  be  adduced  from  the  know- 
ledge of  him  gained  by  his  previous  history.  The  intellectual 
tendency  in  his  nature  demanded  satisfaction.  He  saw  schol- 
arship as  a  means  to  some  greater  end.  He  felt  the  need  of  a 
more  profound  and  extensive  learning,  and  felt  also  that  what 
he  gained  he  must  impart.  To  be  a  teacher  appeared  to  him  as 
the  highest  and  the  most  natural  calling  in  life.  To  do  the  work 
of  a  teacher,  quietly  and  without  ostentation,  to  come  in  contact 
with  other  minds  in  the  intimate  relation  of  teacher  and  pupil, 
this,  if  he  had  ambition,  was  his.  To  the  end  of  his  life,  his  heart 
rejoiced  at  the  thought  of  a  school  or  college,  above  all  of  a  theo- 
logical school.  And  further  the  study  of  history  fascinated  him 
beyond  any  other,  especially  ecclesiastical  history.  For  such  a 
position  he  had  unusual  qualifications  and  every  reason  to  expect 
the  highest  success.  But  it  seems  strange  that  he  did  not  value 
the  gift  of  speech  with  which  he  was  endowed ;  if  he  was  aware 
of  its  possession,  he  held  it  in  low  esteem  compared  with  the 
reality  which  he  aspired  after. 

At  this  point  he  came  in  conflict  with  the  world's  estimate, 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  161 

which  honors  most  those  who  have  enthralled  it  with  the  elo- 
quence of  the  spoken  word.  The  pressure  of  opinion  was  against 
his  preference.  His  best  friends  and  the  best  judges  of  the  situ- 
ation were  averse  to  the  change,  and  felt  that  his  withdrawal 
from  the  pulpit  would  be  a  public  calamity.  Preachers,  they 
urged,  like  poets,  were  born,  not  made.  "The  loss  of  direct  con- 
tact with  practical  life" — so  wrote  one  of  his  admirers — "might 
stop  some  of  your  sources  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  supply 
and  freeze  over  the  genial  current  of  your  soul."  His  work  in 
the  pulpit  was  characterized  by  another  admirable  judge  as  of  a 
kind  so  rare  that  "it  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated  and  can- 
not be  replaced." 

As  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  there  was  painful  sur- 
prise when  it  became  known  that  the  rector's  choice  was  to  aban- 
don the  pulpit  and  become  a  professor  in  a  theological  school. 
The  vestry  met  at  once  and  sent  him  "a  warm,  affectionate,  and 
earnest  remonstrance."  Then  the  congregation  was  summoned 
as  a  synod  to  consider  the  question  and  if  possible  to  produce  the 
conviction  in  his  mind  that  his  usefulness  required  that  he 
should  remain  in  his  present  position.  They  came  prepared  to 
make  great  sacrifices.  It  had  become  widely  known  in  the  parish 
that  there  was  one  thing  they  could  do, — they  could  refrain  from 
calling  upon  him  during  certain  hours  of  the  day,  thus  leaving 
him  leisure  for  study,  and  they  could  excuse  him  from  the  neces- 
sity of  making  calls  in  the  parish  beyond  what  necessity  de- 
manded. The  result  of  their  deliberation  was  a  full  and  urgent 
statement  of  the  case  as  it  appeared  from  their  point  of  view, — a 
part  of  which  is  cited: 

"During  his  occupancy  of  this  position,  every  day's  experience 
has  confirmed  our  belief  in  the  peculiar  fitness  of  Mr.  Brooks  for 
preaching  the  gospel.  His  talents  seem  to  us  to  qualify  him  in 
an  unusual  degree  for  success,  not  merely  as  a  preacher,  but 
for  the  development  of  those  great  schemes  of  church  work 
without  which  no  parish  can  live  or  prosper  in  any  sense.  His 
efforts  during  his  incumbency  to  establish  Trinity  Chapel  and 
extend  the  missionary  work,  and  to  undertake  all  those  varied 
labors  by  which  a  true  Christian  life  manifests  itself  in  a  parish, 
have  met  with  wonderful  success;  due  in  a  great  measure,  it 
seemed  to  us,  to  the  sympathetic  ardor  and  enthusiasm  of  his 
character,  combined  in  a  wonderful  and  most  unusual  degree 
with  the  wisdom  and  judgment  which  has  marked  all  his  plans. 


162  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  His  great  popularity  and  success  as  a  preacher,  particularly  in 
the  case  of  those  persons  of  culture  and  position  who  have  seldom 
heretofore  attended  the  public  services  of  our  church,  lead  us  to 
the  belief  and  conviction  that  his  influence  in  extending  the  power 
of  the  Christian  church,  and  in  bringing  into  its  fold  many  who 
may  hereafter  become  through  his  agency  active  and  earnest 
ministers  of  the  church,  cannot  be  overrated.     .     .     . 

"  Finally  we  conceive  that  Mr.  Brooks's  present  position  enables 
him  to  exercise  an  immense  influence  for  good  as  a  citizen,  which 
we  should  be  blind  and  ungrateful  not  fully  to  recognize.  In 
view  of  all  these  considerations,  and  of  many  others  equally  obvi- 
ous, which  we  cannot  here  enumerate,  it  is  impossible  that  we 
should  consent  to  sever  the  tie  which  his  ability,  devotion,  and 
earnest  interest  have  formed  between  us,  and  thereby  entail  a 
sorrow  which  we  cannot  contemplate  without  the  deepest 
emotion. 

"  In  considering  this  subject,  it  seems  proper  for  us  respectfully 
to  request  that  our  rector  shall  set  apart  certain  hours  daily,  say 
from  ten  a.m.  until  three  p.m.,  or  such  other  hours  as  he  may 
select,  exclusively  for  his  own  study,  during  which  he  shall  be 
free  from  any  interruption  by  the  congregation,  who  shall  be  prop- 
erly notified  of  this  arrangement." 

By  January  16th  the  question  was  decided,  and  the  congrega- 
tion was  again  summoned  in  formal  conclave.  The  meeting  was 
opened  with  prayer  by  Mr.  John  Bohlen,  the  founder  of  the 
Bohlen  Lectures,  who  offered  the  following  resolution  which 
was  unanimously  adopted : 

"  The  congregational  meeting  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
the  first  ever  convened,  assembled  for  consultation  in  view  of  the 
apprehended  danger  to  the  congregation  which  the  resignation  of 
the  rector  would  cause,  are  now  called  upon,  instead  of  the  action 
proposed  before  they  assembled,  to  render  devout  thanks  to 
Almighty  God,  the  giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift,  that  He 
has  been  pleased  to  avert  from  us  this  threatened  danger,  and  to 
renew  our  assurance  of  confidence  in,  and  thanks  to,  our  beloved 
rector,  whose  ministrations  are  now  to  be  continued,  we  trust  for 
many  years,  to  the  congregation." 

So  it  was  decided  that  Phillips  Brooks  should  remain  in 
the  pulpit  and  not  be  lost  in  a  professor's  chair.  Opinion  will 
differ  as  to  whether  he  took  the  right  course  of  action,  in  this 
critical  moment,  when  his  life  was  still  before  him.  The  wider 
consensus  will  acknowledge  with  gratitude  the  action  of    the 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  163 

Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Philadelphia,  by  which  the  preacher 
was  saved  to  the  Church,  to  the  country,  and  to  the  world.  But 
there  may  be  some  who  will  lament  that  the  teacher's  chair  lost 
not  only  an  ornament  but  that  the  cause  of  historical  theology 
then  suffered  a  loss  which  cannot  be  repaired. 

His  decision  to  remain  with  his  church  is  thus  alluded  to  in  a 
letter  to  his  brother: 

"January  22,  1864.  I  am  settled  down  after  my  little  promise 
of  disturbance,  and  parish  work  is  going  on  pretty  much  as  usual, 
except  that  by  an  understanding  with  my  people  I  expect  to 
get  more  time  for  my  own  study,  and  to  get  rid  of  what  I  hold 
to  be  very  unnecessary  work,  the  spending  the  best  part  of  the 
day  in  running  about  making  calls." 

While  the  question  of  his  call  to  the  Divinity  School  was 
pending  he  was  induced  to  consent  to  the  publication  of  a  volume 
of  his  sermons.  The  making  of  the  book  had  begun,  and  half  of 
its  pages  were  stereotyped,  when  he  concluded  to  withdraw  it. 
A  few  copies  were  bound  up,  to  give  to  intimate  friends,  and 
at  some  expense  to  himself  the  venture  terminated.  In  a  letter 
to  his  father  he  says: 

"March  12,  1864.  About  the  book  you  must  say  no  more. 
Of  course  I  pay  the  cost.  It  won't  be  much,  I  don't  know  just 
how  much  yet;  Lippincott  has  not  made  his  calculations  yet, 
but  I  can  stand  it.  I  have  n't  got  boys  in  school  and  in  college, 
and  though  I  am  not  doing  a  smashing  hardware  business,  I  am 
getting  a  salary  quite  sufficient  for  my  wants,  and  can  afford  it 
very  well;  so  no  more  on  that  subject. 

"  The  boys'  visit  still  lingers  like  the  odor  of  an  old  pipe  or  an 
old  Andover  MS.,  just  which  you  please.  I  like  the  first  better 
than  the  second.  You  like  the  second  better  than  the  first.  .  .  . 
We  are  in  the  midst  of  Lent,  and  hard  at  work.  My  church 
goes  on  beautifully,  was  never  so  harmonious  and  so  active. 
I  am  making  it  my  winter's  work  to  endow  a  '  Holy  Trinity 
Professorship '  in  the  new  Divinity  School.  It  will  take  $30,000. 
.  .  .  Money  was  never  so  easy  to  beg  as  when  men  are  pour- 
ing it  out  in  all  directions  very  freely.     ..." 

He  now  laid  out  for  himself  a  course  of  reading.  The  subject 
which  he  chose  was  Mohammedanism.  He  bought  the  available 
books  on  the  subject,  and  for  a  year  and  more  pursued  his  in- 
quiry, returning  to  his  practice  of  keeping  a  note-book.     We  may 


i64  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

surmise  to  some  extent  the  motives  of  his  choice.  Carlyle  had 
then  interested  the  world  in  Mohammed  by  his  essay  in  Heroes 
and  Hero  Worship.  The  nature  and  secret  of  Mohammed's 
power  is  one  of  the  points  turning  up  in  Brooks's  comments. 
It  had  long  been  and  would  long  continue  to  be  one  of  the  prob- 
lems before  his  mind — the  nature  of  power  and  its  connection 
with  the  will.  He  had  always  been  drawn  in  his  reading  to  men 
who  had  exercised  power  in  the  world.  It  may  be  also  that  he 
felt  the  need  of  supplementing  studies  and  influences  purely 
humanitarian,  with  the  idea  of  God,  which  was  losing  its  hold 
on  the  world  of  his  time.  He  called  his  subject  Mohammedanism 
but  in  reality  it  was  a  study  of  the  contrast  between  Islam  and 
Christianity.  In  his  criticism  of  writers,  he  finds  that  Carlyle 
overstates  and  colors  his  facts,  while  others  labor  under  rancor 
and  prejudice.  These  mark  the  extremes  in  the  method  of 
studying  the  Arabian  prophet.  He  is  not  satisfied  wholly  with 
Savary's  Abrege  de  la  Vie.  Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall  he  read 
faithfully,  alternating  in  his  condemnation  and  his  praise: 
"  How  strangely  bitter  without  a  bitter  word,  how  malignant 
with  its  seeming  courtesy  to  Christianity,  is  that  fiftieth  chapter 
of  Gibbon!"  He  appreciates  Renan's  subtle  and  ingenious 
comments,  but  thinks  him  guilty  of  overstatement.  Foster's 
Mohammedanism  Unveiled  he  read  with  curious  interest  be- 
cause of  its  point  of  view,  drawing  much  from  it  despite  his 
repugnance  to  its  methods.  He  went  through  Milman's  Latin 
Christianity  with  admiration;  it  was  then  a  fresh  book  which 
all  were  reading.  Many  hints  he  gained  from  Neander,  Gieseler, 
and  Hase,  and  other  German  church  historians,  from  Stanley  also 
in  his  Eastern  Church,  from  Maurice's  Religions  of  the  World; 
and  he  did  not  neglect  studies  in  reviews.  He  browsed  over 
Weil's  The  Bible,  the  Koran,  and  the  Talmud,  and  his  Mohammed 
der  Prophet,  sein  Leben  und  seine  Lehre.  Of  Sprenger's  Life  of 
Mohammed  he  remarks  that  "for  careful,  thoughtful  fact-telling 
it  is  worth  all  the  rest  together."  He  would  give  a  good  deal 
if  he  could  get  hold  of  another  promised  work  of  Sprenger's, 
a  chronological  history  of  the  Koran  which  will  trace  the  religion 
philosophically  in  its  growth,  for  it  would  give  what  he  can 
nowhere  find.  Sale's  Koran  with  Notes  and  Preliminary  Dis- 
course,  Gagnier's    La    Vie   de    Mahomet,  Washington    Irving's 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  165 

Mahomet  and  his  Successors,  Boulanvillier's  Life  of  Mohammed, 
these  also  were  put  under  contribution  to  the  total  picture  in  his 
mind.     These  comments  are  from  his  note-book: 

"It  is  curious  to  ask  if  the  Jews  had  accepted  Mohammed 
and  Jerusalem  had  continued  the  Kebla,  how  far  Islamism  and 
Judaism  could  have  coalesced. 

"The  deficiency  in  the  theistic  idea  of  the  Mohammedans, 
says  Neander,  was  a  lack  of  intimate  power  of  connecting  between 
the  human  and  the  divine,  robbing  Islam  on  its  Hebrew  side  of 
any  power  such  as  came  from  a  Messiah,  and  on  its  Christian  side 
making  it  impossible  to  acknowledge  a  Trinity. 

"  It  made  the  doctrine  of  the  infinite  sublimity  of  God  its  basis, 
as  Gieseler  says,  but  in  a  way  so  one-sided  that  an  absolute  de- 
pendence of  man  on  God  resulted  from  it,  and  ideas  of  a  likeness 
and  an  inward  union  between  God  and  man,  and  consequently  the 
fundamental  principles  of  all  the  higher  morality,  found  no  place 
in  the  system. 

"  Nothing  could  convince  us  like  the  extreme  accuracy  of 
Sprenger's  'Life,'  etc.,  how  human  Mohammed  was,  and  how 
divine  his  descendants  thought  him. 

"Among  the  picturesque  scenes  which  strike  the  imagination 
are  the  conversation  of  Mohammed  with  the  Nestorian  monk  at 
Bosia;  Heraclius,  the  Roman  emperor,  receiving  Mohammed's 
letter,  and  putting  it  under  his  pillow ;  Chosroes,  the  Persian  king, 
receiving  his  and  tearing  it  up ;  Mohammed  in  the  first  violent 
attack  of  his  last  illness  addressing  the  tenants  of  the  graves. 

"The  fine  picture  of  the  idols,  questioned  at  the  last  day 
whether  they  or  the  idolaters  were  to  blame,  and  the  fault  cast 
on  the  idolaters. 

"The  Arabs  when  charged  with  stealing  give  for  an  excuse 
the  hard  treatment  of  Ishmael ;  they  are  only  getting  their  rights. 
Subjective  character  of  sin ;  its  influence  by  habit. 

"Converted  slaves  become  freedmen. 

"The  dogma  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  is  borrowed  from 
the  Koran. 

"When  Mohammed  expelled  the  images  from  the  holy  house, 
among  the  banished  gods  was  a  Byzantine  virgin  painted  on  a 
column,  holding  her  child  in  her  arms. 

"The  whole  story  of  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac  is  told  of  Ishmael 
with  very  great  particularity. 

"Take  these  figures,  the  'Sun'  of  Christianity  and  the  'Moon ' 
of  Mohammedanism,  and  do  not  their  relations  in  many  ways 
sustain  the  metaphor? 

"  The  nobleness  of  Mohammed's  last  days. 

"Why  may  we  not  say  this  about  Mohammed?  What  was 
true  in  his  faith  he  believed  truly,  but  it  was  not  his ;  he  found  it 


i66  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

in  the  spirit  of  his  people  and  his  time.  What  was  untrue  was 
his,  but  he  never  believed  it  wholly  and  truly.  There  was  always 
a  mixture  of  imposture  in  it.  Thus  in  him,  as  ever,  the  eternal 
difference  of  truth  and  a  lie  is  vindicated. 

"The  state  of  the  Christian  Church,  with  its  infinite  sects  and 
heresies,  when  Mohammed  appeared  would  seem  to  explain  much 
of  his  perplexity  in  reducing  its  doctrine  to  shape.  His  epitome 
of  it  is  in  many  points  certainly  remarkable. 

"It  is  a  striking  fact  that  the  two  great  powers  of  the  Papacy 
and  Islam  should  have  arisen  together,  reached  their  meridian 
grandeur  together,  and  together  have  declined,  with  the  rise  of 
Protestantism. 

"Look  at  the  Neoplatonism  of  Ghazzaly,  the  Plotinus  of  Islam 
— how  it  repeats  Alexandria  at  Mecca,  and  shows  us  the  eternal 
sameness  of  error. 

"Ever  this  new  faith  touches  with  the  old.  It  is  not  a  new 
faith;  it  is  the  old.  It  is  another  Judaism,  more  human,  less 
divine.  It  is  the  neo-Judaism  of  decay;  and  Mohammed  is  to 
Moses  what  Plotinus  is  to  Plato. 

"Why  should  a  prophet  with  miraculous  powers  have  suffered 
hardship?  Jamaly,  a  mystical  poet,  gets  over  this  difficulty  by 
representing  his  life  as  an  allegory.  It  was  a  play  acted  in 
reality  and  expressive  of  the  nature  of  God  and  the  laws  of  the 
universe.  Not  so  untrue,  0  Jamaly,  of  this  man's  or  any  man's 
life. 

"The  affinities  of  Islam  with  modern  Unitarianism,  their  at- 
tempted reunion,  and  especially  that  strange  story  of  the  visit  of 
Servetus  to  Africa. 

"See  Leslie's  Works,  i.  207,  for  the  celebrated  address  of  the 
English  Unitarians,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  to  Ameth  Ben 
Ameth,  ambassador  from  the  Emperor  of  Morocco.  'Ce  qui 
distingue  le  Socinianisme  de  la  religion  Mahometane  est  si  im- 
perceptible qu'il  n'y  a  que  des  int^rets  humains  qui  puissent 
retenir  dans  sa  secte  un  Socinien  bien  instruit.' 

"This  too  is  striking.  'The  heretical  sects  of  Christianity  uni- 
formly incline  towards  Mohammedanism;  the  heretical  sects  of 
Mohammedanism  generally  found  to  incline  toward  Christianity.' 

"I  gather  from  his  story  this, — that  he  was  at  first  a  religious 
enthusiast  of  the  practical  order,  truly,  humbly,  earnestly  at- 
tempting the  work  of  reforming  the  national  faith;  that  his 
enthusiasm  was  strong  enough  to  overbear  personal  difficulties  and 
disgraces  and  make  him  unselfish  in  the  consciousness  of  a  mis- 
sion; that  he  deduced  at  that  time  from  the  Christianity  and 
Judaism  with  which  he  came  in  contact  a  scheme  of  faith  wonder- 
fully simple  and  true  when  compared  with  many  of  the  Christian 
heresies  of  his  time.  The  change  comes  with  the  Hejirah.  He 
loses  with  the  unexpected  access  of  power,  first,  his*  intentness, 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  167 

second,  his  simplicity  and  singleness  of  action,  third,  his  unselfish- 
ness. Passion  of  power  and  self-indulgences  keep  him  un- 
stably into  their  control,  but  the  better  spirit  is  underneath  all 
the  time  and  will  occasionally  burst  out.  The  Koran  comprises 
the  record  of  both  spirits,  and  its  personal  aspects  must  be 
judged  by  his  history.  All  his  powers  were  made  weak  with 
unsystematicalness  and  instability. 

1 '  What  shall  we  make  of  the  opposite  accounts  (cf . ,  for  instance, 
Renan  and  Carlyle)  of  the  amount  of  belief  of  Moslems  in  Islam. 
What  but  this, — that  although  the  amount  of  special  faith  in 
Mohammed  and  his  teaching  was  but  slight  and  confined  to  a  few, 
the  truth  of  Islam,  its  central  and  more  general  truth,  was  needed 
and  seized  in  a  more  personal  faith  by  the  people  who  were  by 
God's  training  ready  for  it.  Mohammed  has  done  vast  harm.  I 
should  dishonor  God  if  I  did  not  believe  that  Islam  had  done 
good. 

"  Where  did  this  sublimity  come  from  into  the  Koran? — 

"  'The  East  became  too  strait  for  them,  notwithstanding  its  spaciousness, 
And  their  souls  became  straitened  within  them; 
And  they  considered  that  there  was  no  refuge  from  God, 
Otherwise  than  by  having  recourse  to  Him.' 

"  This  is  Christianity,  come  it  whence  it  will." 

The  study  of  Mohammedanism  left  its  influence  on  Phillips 
Brooks.  To  get  the  difference  between  it  and  Christianity  was  to 
penetrate  more  deeply  the  Christian  sphere.  In  these  inquiries 
he  also  kept  in  view  one  distinct  purpose  of  his  own,  which  was 
to  become  the  unifying  principle  of  his  method, — the  nature  and 
source  of  power,  how  it  was  to  be  fed,  how  ideas  and  truths  and 
beliefs  were  to  be  transmuted  into  power. 

That  he  was  already  on  the  right  road  for  the  solution  of  his 
problem  was  shown  by  an  address  which  he  delivered  in  the  spring 
of  this  year  before  the  Evangelical  Education  Society,  then 
recently  organized.  At  a  moment  when  the  feeling  was  rife  that 
the  Christian  ministry  could  no  longer  compete  with  other  agen- 
cies for  the  amelioration  of  society,  he  maintained  that  the  pulpit 
possessed  a  vast  advantage  in  that  it  could  bring  to  bear  the 
power  of  personality,  the  mightiest  force  conceivable,  in  co-opera- 
tion with  the  moral  appeal.  His  utterance  left  an  impression  on 
those  who  listened  of  a  special  message  for  the  hour.  In  many 
ways  this  year  1864  was  prolific  in  the  spiritual  history  of  Phillips 


168  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Brooks.  The  inner  life  of  his  manhood  hid  with  Christ  in 
God  he  shielded  from  observation,  but  it  was  revealed  in  the 
pulpit.  He  took  the  world  of  humanity  into  his  confidence, 
however  reserved  in  his  private  conversation.  There  had  been 
traces  of  depression  in  his  home  correspondence  in  the  previous 
year,  but  they  seem  to  have  disappeared.  There  is,  to  be  sure , 
the  same  sensitiveness  to  the  weather,  the  invariable  comment 
on  the  day  or  the  season  as  bright  or  dark ;  he  even  dreads  a  long 
railway  journey.  But  for  the  rest,  there  is  freedom  and  light- 
heartedness.  Life  continued  to  grow  richer  and  fuller,  bringing 
new  friendships  and  expanding  in  every  direction.  His  brother 
Frederick  had  become  a  member  of  the  Divinity  School  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  through  him  he  entered  into  a  close  relationship 
with  the  theological  students,  eager  to  know  how  their  minds 
were  moving  in  that  day  of  changes  in  religious  thought.  It  was 
one  of  his  peculiarities  that  he  would  take  trouble  to  hear  public 
lectures.  He  learned  much  from  living  men.  He  speaks  of  hear- 
ing Goldwin  Smith,  Edward  Everett,  Wendell  Phillips,  Richard 
H.  Dana,  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 

The  chief  event  in  the  history  of  the  war  was  the  appointment 
of  General  Grant,  in  the  spring  of  1864,  to  the  command  of  all  the 
forces  of  the  United  States,  with  the  title  of  lieutenant-general. 
With  the  approval  of  General  Grant,  the  movement  of  an  army 
of  60,000  men  was  accomplished  under  General  W.  T.  Sherman, 
through  the  Confederate  States  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea, 
from  Atlanta,  which  was  captured,  to  Savannah ;  then  northward 
to  Charleston  in  South  Carolina,  and  thence  farther  northward 
to  Goldsboro,  in  North  Carolina,  thus  isolating  Richmond  from 
the  South.  General  Grant  himself  now  initiated  the  last  stage  of 
the  war,  but  a  year  was  to  elapse  before  the  final  surrender  of  the 
Southern  capital.  In  the  months  of  May  and  June  came  the 
battles  of  the  Wilderness,  of  Spottsylvania,  and  of  Cold  Harbor, 
in  which  perished  70,000  men.  Activities  on  a  vast  scale  were 
projected  in  the  Northern  cities,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Sani- 
tary Commission,  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  the  government 
in  the  care  of  sick  and  wounded  soldiers.  The  great  fairs  in  Phil- 
adelphia and  New  York,  Boston  and  elsewhere,  were  gigantic 
undertakings,  rousing  popular  enthusiasm,  and  tending  to  unify 
and  solidify  the  Northern  sentiment. 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  169 

Great  expectations  had  been  raised  when  General  Grant  took 
command  of  the  army  in  front  of  Richmond.  The  month  of  May, 
however,  proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  fearful  months  of  the  long 
struggle.  Even  Grant  did  not  meet  with  success.  It  began  to 
look  as  if  Richmond  were  never  to  be  taken.  In  his  diary,  or 
letters,  Mr.  Brooks  records  the  fleeting  impressions  of  those  days 
of  suspense  and  horror  : 

"  May  7,  1864.  We  are  almost  listening  to-day  for  the  cannon 
on  the  Rapidan.  The  greatest  fight  of  the  war  is  going  on,  and 
God  only  knows  its  issue.  Before  you  get  this  we  shall  be  either 
close  on  peace,  or  way  back  with  half  the  work  to  do  over  again. 
But  we  '11  do  it,  either  now  or  ten  years  hence,  whenever  God 
wills." 

"  May  8.     Good  news  from  Grant." 

' '  May  1 1 .  Great  excitement  all  day  in  receiving  news  from  the 
army  in  Virginia." 

"  May  12.     Good  news  from  Virginia.      Grant  is  driving  Lee." 

"  May  16.  All  day  doubtful  whether  to  go  to  the  Army.  Had 
to  give  it  up  at  last." 

"May  21,  1864.  I  am  writing  my  sermon  for  the  Sunday-school 
Union.  It  will  be  preached  to-morrow  night.  I  do  not  know 
how  it  will  go.  I  have  told  them  plainly  that  it  is  their  bounden 
duty  to  teach  the  children  of  the  country  the  duty  of  loyalty  and 
the  sin  of  slavery,  that  if  they  shirk  that  duty  they  will  be  in  part 
responsible  for  some  future  generations  having  to  go  through  this 
fearful  education  some  day  again.  It  will  be  printed  unless  they 
think  it  is  too  radical.     I  will  send  you  a  copy. 

"  Our  hopes  are  all  in  front  of  Richmond,  and  there  has  been 
nothing  yet  to  dampen  them.  God  grant  there  may  not  be.  I 
am  sicker  and  sicker  at  heart  every  day  for  this  fearful  loss  of 
precious  life.  It  must  bring  something.  We  have  not  got 
Richmond  yet,  nor  shall  we  have  immediately.  We  must  be 
patient.  It  will  come  in  time,  we  must  believe.  Meanwhile  we 
can  do  nothing  but  wait  and  pray." 

While  he  was  in  Pittsburg,  attending  the  Episcopal  Diocesan 
Convention,  he  delivered  a  sermon  on  the  Prayer  Book.  His 
text  was  from  Exodus  xxv.  22:  "And  I  will  commune  with  thee 
from  above  the  mercy  seat."  He  maintained  that  what  the 
skepticism  of  the  day  needed  was  not  new  proof  of  abstract  truths, 
but  new  demonstrations  of  their  personal  power;  not  more  study, 
but  more  prayer.  The  Prayer  Book  furnishes  an  antidote  to 
secularism  in  the  thought  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  making  an 


+ 


:< 


i7°  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

atmosphere  so  pure  that  in  it  secularism  cannot  thrive.  The 
Prayer  Book  makes  truth  evident,  not  so  much  by  the  clearness 
with  which  it  defines  it,  as  by  the  light  with  which  it  fills  it.  It 
turns  the  stories  of  the  Bible  into  the  parables  of  common  life. 
The  only  way  to  make  men  orthodox  as  to  special  beliefs  is  to 
make  the  great  Christian  truths  self-demonstrated  by  the  vigor 
with  which  they  shape  themselves  into  Christian  duty  and  Chris- 
tian life.  The  Prayer  Book  is  full  of  doctrines,  and  yet  fills 
them  through  and  through  with  the  interest  of  human  life.  It 
never  tells  men  what  to  believe  without  telling  them  what  blessing 
will  come  from  such  a  belief.  He  urged  a  more  intellectual 
study  of  the  Prayer  Book,  and  a  higher  intellectual  estimate  of 
its  value.  It  had  in  it  the  eternal  power  of  the  Bible  to  meet 
all  ages,  and  to  suit  the  newest  circumstances  of  the  newest  age 
the  best. 

"June  4,  1864.  I  have  been  to  Pittsburg  and  am  home  again. 
.  Our  Convention  was  a  shameful  failure.  We  asked 
that  body  of  Christian  ministers  and  laymen  to  say  that  treason 
was  wicked  and  slavery  a  sin.  They  declined,  and  substituted 
some  feeble  platitudes  done  up  in  wretched  rhetoric  which  meant 
nothing  and  said  it.  I  was  ashamed  of  my  church.  Never 
mind;  the  salvation  of  the  country  does  not  depend  on  the 
Episcopal  Church,  and  glad  as  I  should  have  been  to  see  her  as 
a  body  on  the  right  side  now,  she  will  have  to  come  there  by  and 
by  when  it  will  be  no  honor  to  herself.  Oh,  how  I  hate  this 
miserable  conservatism.  I  almost  cried  for  the  church  at 
Pittsburg." 

Neither  at  this  time,  nor  at  any  time  in  his  life,  did  Mr.  Brooks 
take  an  interest  in  ecclesiastical  conventions.  He  attended 
them,  but  it  was  a  burden  to  his  soul.  In  later  years  he  strove 
to  overcome  this  repugnance,  submitting  patiently,  keeping  his 
place  without  intermissions,  and  occasionally  taking  part  in  the 
discussions.  But  even  so,  it  was  a  thing  apart  from  the  spirit 
within  him. 

The  summer  had  now  come,  the  parish  year  was  over,  and  he 
looked  forward  to  vacation  and  home. 

"June  18,  1864.  I  hope  it  is  n't  wrong  to  travel  on  the  glorious 
anniversary,  but  I  feel  so  anxious  to  get  home  that  I  feel  it 
would  n't  be  very  wrong  to  travel  on  Sunday  to  get  there.     We 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  171 

have  had  Old  Abe  with  us  this  week  at  the  Fair.  He  was  look- 
ing well  and  seemed  to  enjoy  himself.  I  heard  him  speak  and 
shook  hands  with  him.  Is  n't  it  good  to  think  that  we  are  going 
to  have  him  for  our  next  President? 

"  Our  Fair  is  a  great  success.  It  is  incessantly  crowded,  and  is 
making  an  immense  amount  of  money.  The  whole  city  is  alive 
with  it,  and  I  think  it  is  going  to  do  good  in  more  ways  than  one. 
It  keeps  people's  loyalty  alive  and  their  sympathies  active.  We 
are  having  a  glorious  summer  so  far,  scarcely  any  warm  weather 
yet,  good  weather  for  fighting  and  for  sermon-writing." 

The  summer  was  mostly  a  repetition  of  other  summers,  in- 
cluding Harvard  Commencement,  the  Andover  homestead,  Dr. 
Vinton  at  Pomfret,  the  Athenaeum  and  its  alcoves,  the  great 
organ,  just  placed  in  the  Music  Hall,  the  lakes  of  Maine  in 
August,  and  as  always  the  sermon  written  for  the  Sunday  after 
his  return. 

"Philadelphia,  September  3,  1864.  Splendid  news  from  Sher- 
man to-day !  Is  n't  it  glorious?  A  few  more  steps  like  this,  and 
we  shall  have  peace  earlier  than  the  Copperheads  could  bring  it, 
and  a  better  one  than  they  want  to  see.  I  've  had  a  splendid 
vacation.     The  best  part  of  it  what  I  spent  at  home." 

To  his  father,  who  had  been  guilty  of  some  lapse  from  his 
own  strict  rules,  he  sends  a  reprimand: 

"Philadelphia,  September  12,  1864. 

"Dear  Father, — Once  there  was  a  gentleman  in  Boston,  and 
he  had  a  son  who  was  a  minister  in  Philadelphia,  and  he  used  to 
upbraid  his  son  and  tell  him  he  was  an  unpractical,  unbusinesslike 
fellow  whenever  he  got  a  letter  from  him  which  did  n't  have  the 
date  in  full,  and  all  about  the  place  it  was  written  in,  and  all 
that.  But  one  day  the  minister  in  Philadelphia  got  a  letter  from 
the  hardware  merchant  in  Boston,  enclosed  in  the  envelope 
with  the  queer  direction  which  you  will  find  with  this.  And  after 
that  the  minister  did  just  as  he  pleased  about  the  dates,  and  all 
that,  of  his  letters,  for  he  thought  he  had  got  the  practical, 
systematic,  businesslike  merchant  pretty  fairly.  Don't  you  think 
he  had?" 

A  special  Thanksgiving  Day  was  appointed  by  President  Lin- 
coln on  September  nth,  to  commemorate  the  victories  of  Sherman 
and  Thomas,  the  capture  of  the  important  city  of  Atlanta,  which 
closed  the  campaign  in  the  West,  and  the  beginning  of  Sherman's 


i72  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

march  to  the  sea.  The  entire  Union  army  of  some  million 
of  men  was  now  at  liberty  to  concentrate  its  strength  on  the 
reduction  of  Richmond.  The  chief  political  event  in  the  fall 
of  1864  was  the  re-election  to  the  presidency  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. McClellan  was  the  rival  candidate,  and  in  Philadelphia 
had  a  large  following.  Pennsylvania  went  Republican  by  about 
15,000  majority,  but  a  majority  of  50,000  had  been  hoped  for  and 
predicted.  Excitement  ran  high  in  Philadelphia,  and  Mr.  Brooks 
notes  in  his  diary  the  great  "Copperhead  processions,"  which 
looked  most  formidable,  and  thought  the  fight  would  be  a  hard 
one.  There  was  enough  uncertainty  in  the  situation  to  make  the 
election  of  Lincoln  seem  a  triumphant  victory.  On  the  evening 
of  election  day,  November  8th,  Mr.  Brooks  went  as  usual  to  the 
Union  League  Club  to  hear  the  news,  and  winds  up  the  occasion 
with  the  words:  "The  Union  candidates  are  triumphantly 
elected.     Thank  God  !  " 

"  Saturday  Evening,  November  12,  1864. 

"What  a  great  week  this  has  been;  we  shall  not  forget  it  soon. 
I  feel  too  much  impressed  with  its  grandeur  to  go  off  into  rap- 
tures about  it.  Enough  that  it  has  saved  our  country,  and  you 
and  I  will  have  to  thank  God  for  it  all  our  lives.  Old  Massa- 
chusetts did  splendidly.  I  am  prouder  of  her  than  ever.  Oh, 
if  all  the  country  were  as  true.  And  yet  no  part  deserves  re- 
proach All  have  done  well.  Surely  Pennsylvania  has  shown 
that  she  is  all  right.  Now  we  can  look  ahead  and  hope.  We 
have  thought  and  talked  of  little  else  than  the  election  all  this 
week.     Sermons  for  to-morrow  have  been  crowded  into  corners." 

The  sermon  on  the  annual  Thanksgiving  Day  in  November 
was  from  the  text  (Ps.  cxviii.  27):  "  God  is  the  Lord  who  hath 
showed  us  light;  bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords,  even  unto  the 
horns  of  the  altar."  Speaking  of  his  sermon  he  said,  "It  is 
what  some  people  call  politics;  what  I  call  National  Morals."  The 
preacher  took  what  was  then  regarded  as  extreme  ground  in  ad- 
vocating that  emancipated  slaves  should  be  put  in  possession 
of  the  ballot.  He  was  speaking  to  the  country  as  he  stood  that 
day  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  The  air 
was  full  of  excitement.  Observers  watching  the  scene  were 
struck  with  the  contrast  between  the  richly  appointed  church, 
with  its  soft  cushions,  the  dim  religious  light  from  the  stained- 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  173 

glass  windows,  the  unobtrusive  tones  of  the  organ  soothing  the 
worshippers  to  reverie,  the  cultivated,  fashionable  congregation, 
and  the  church  filled  with  the  vast  crowd  long  before  the  service 
began,  waiting  in  eager  expectancy;  and  on  the  other  hand  the 
thrilling  uncompromising  words  of  the  preacher.  The  strong 
sentences  seemed  out  of  place,  and  the  stronger  sentiments. 
"Th  devil  of  slavery  had  kissed  the  strong  shoulders  of  the 
Republic,  and  the  serpents  sprung  from  the  defiling  lips  were 
preying  upon  her  life.  It  was  agony  to  tear  them  off  but  it 
was  death  to  let  them  remain.  Despite  our  anguish,  we  had 
taken  courage  to  rid  us  of  the  abomination  "  The  speaker 
attacked  the  prejudice  against  color,  rebuking  the  Street  Car 
Directory,  pleading  with  pathos  mixed  with  satire,  and  most 
solemnly,  for  negro  suffrage.  "We  ought  to  make,  not  to  be 
made  by,  the  spirit  of  the  times."  In  his  letters  he  refers  to 
other  efforts  in  behalf  of  the  same  cause : 

"November  23,  1864.  We  had  a  great  Freedmen's  meeting 
at  Concert  Hall  on  Monday  evening.  It  rained  torrents,  but 
the  hall  was  full.  I  sent  a  '  Press '  with  the  report,  but  beg  you 
most  earnestly  not  to  believe  that  I  said  all  the  foolish  and  con- 
tradictory things  which  the  reporter  there  puts  in  my  mouth. 
Next  Monday  I  am  going  to  Pittsburg  to  speak  before  a  meeting 
of  the  same  character.  The  western  part  of  our  State  has  done 
nothing,  and  we  want  to  wake  it  up  if  we  can.  I  had  a  most 
interesting  visit  in  Washington,  though  it  was  very  short;  but  I 
saw  at  once  the  magnitude  and  the  feasibility  of  the  great  work 
we  have  undertaken." 

The  father  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  anxious  lest  his  son  should 
carry  his  "radicalism"  too  far;  and  in  a  letter  gives  the  attitude 
of  conservative  men  in  regard  to  negro  suffrage : 

"  Boston,  December  13,  1864. 

"We  have  seen  the  notices  of  your  Thanksgiving  sermon  in 
the  '  Independent '  and  the  '  Anti-Slavery  Standard.'  You  seem 
to  be  in  favor  with  the  radicals  of  that  stamp.  Don't  go  too  far. 
It  will  require  all  your  best  judgment  and  caution  to  know  just 
how  far  to  go.  Remember  you  occupy  a  prominent  position 
and  your  course  will  be  watched.  Don't  make  it  too  much  'one 
idea,'  or  you  will  split  on  the  rock  so  many  ministers  have  be- 
fore you,  of  making  your  situation  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel  a 
secondary  matter.     How  thoroughly  has  Ward  Beecher  done 


i74  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

this!  Do  you  suppose  his  congregation  go  to  hear  him  as  a 
Christian  minister?  No,  it  is  all  for  his  allusions  and  quaint 
expressions  upon  his  one  idea,  and  they  are  followed  up  by  ap- 
plause. It  is  sad  to  see  the  house  of  God  and  the  pulpit  so 
debased.  Are  you  not  going  too  fast  to  advocate  the  entire 
freedom  and  equality  of  the  negro,  even  to  the  right  of  suffrage, 
as  I  understand  from  those  notices  that  you  do?  I  cannot 
believe  that  it  is  best  or  advisable  to  introduce  another  foreign 
element  into  our  elections;  it  certainly  cannot  raise  the  standards 
of  our  right  of  suffrage  or  the  character  of  our  candidates.  Let 
us  keep  the  ballot  box  as  pure  as  we  can.  However  you  may 
argue  the  point  of  the  races  being  intellectually  equal,  yet  polit- 
ically to  my  mind  there  is  no  question.  I  hope  I  shall  never  live 
to  see  it,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  children  I  hope  it  will  never  be 
done.  Don't  go  too  jar.  How  many  good  causes  have  been 
injured,  nay  ruined,  by  that.  Go  on  in  aid  of  the  Freedmen  as 
much  as  you  please,  but  such  a  measure  as  that  is  not  to  their 
aid  in  the  present  stage  of  affairs.  ..." 

To  this  remonstrance  Phillips  Brooks  replied : 

"  Philadelphia,  December  19,  1864. 
"You  seem  quite  troubled  about  my  radicalism.  Don't  let 
it  disturb  you.  There  is  no  danger.  I  certainly  think  the  ne- 
gro ought  to  be  free,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  going  to  be.  And  I 
think  he  ought  to  vote,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  in  time;  but  neither 
of  these  things  is  the  subject  of  my  preaching,  except  on  rare 
occasions.  I  trust  I  know  my  work  too  well  for  that.  I  preach 
what  I  was  ordained  to  preach, — the  gospel,  nothing  else;  but 
as  a  part  of  the  gospel  I  accept  the  rebuking  of  sins,  and  public 
sins  as  well  as  private.  ...  I  know  not  how  to  work  on  any 
other  system.  My  Thanksgiving  sermon  is  not  going  to  be  pub- 
lished. It  is  radical,  but  quiet,  calm,  and  I  think  Christian.  .  .  . 
Republican  government  [again  he  writes]  does  not  know  such 
a  thing  as  an  unvoting  subject.  It  has  no  place  for  Obeyers 
and  Supporters  who  are  not  Governors  and  Directors  too.  We 
have  got  either  to  eradicate  the  Negroes  or  to  integrate  them. 
The  first  we  can't  do,  the  second  we  must." 

In  his  speech  at  Pittsburg  on  the  29th  of  December  he  gave 
himself  loose  rein  with  glowing  earnestness.  What  he  said 
briefly  in  his  Thanksgiving  sermon,  he  now  enlarged  upon,  and 
urged  with  all  his  power, — the  necessity  of  giving  the  negro  the 
ballot  in  order  to  the  completion  of  his  freedom;  the  responsi- 
bility resting  upon  the  North  to  provide  the  possibilities  of  the 
amplest  education;  the  crisis  at  hand  when,  untrained  and  unac- 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  175 

customed  to  care  for  himself,  in  his  ignorance  and  laziness,  he 
might  become  a  menace  to  the  country  unless  the  people  should 
give  him  the  conditions  of  essential  manhood;  the  faith  in  the 
negro,  as  ready  to  respond  with  gratitude  and  devotion,  and  as 
having  already  shown  the  capacity  and  the  promise  for  a  great 
future. 

He  did  not  forget  to  comment  on  the  recurring  birthday,  in 
a  letter  to  his  older  brother  William : 

"December  12,  1864.  I  am  twenty-nine  years  old  to-morrow, 
just  think  of  it!  How  we  are  getting  along.  Well,  there  are 
very  few  fellows  who  get  to  be  as  old  as  we  are  and  have  such 
a  good  time  generally  all  the  way  along.  We  had  a  nice  time 
before  we  went  to  school,  a  nice  time  at  school,  and  a  nice  time 
since  we  left.  Let  us  hope  the  rest  of  our  time,  till  we  are  fifty- 
eight  and  sixty,  will  go  as  smoothly  as  the  past,  and  then  we  can 
say  Good-by  to  the  world  as  to  a  very  kind  old  friend." 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  he  kept  the  watch  meeting  at  St. 
Philip's  Church,  where  he  made  an  address.  And  so  was  ush- 
ered in  the  great  year  in  the  divine  grace,  1865. 

The  year  1865  was  memorable  in  the  history  of  the  republic, 
memorable  also  in  the  experience  of  Phillips  Brooks.  In  connec- 
tion with  the  closing  scenes  of  the  war,  his  personal  power  reached 
the  climax  of  its  influence  and  expression.  He  had  become  so 
identified  with  the  national  life  that  other  interests,  his  family, 
his  parish,  might  seem  to  be  in  the  background  of  his  conscious- 
ness. But  the  home  correspondence  went  on  undiminished  in 
frequency  and  interest;  while  incidents  also  were  occurring  of 
no  slight  importance  in  his  successful  career  as  a  parish  minister. 
First  among  these  was  the  completion  of  his  scheme  for  endowing 
a  professorship  in  the  Divinity  School.  Early  in  the  year  there 
came  two  calls  from  parishes  in  San  Francisco.  These,  at  once 
declined,  left  their  effect  in  the  vague  longing  to  be  connected 
with  a  new  country  in  its  new  life,  free  from  the  trammels  of  an 
older  civilization. 

As  he  passed  into  the  season  of  Lent,  he  remarks  that  he 
never  had  more  enjoyed  its  peculiar  work  and  privileges.  He 
seems,  however,  to  have  been  annoyed  with  a  circular  he  had 
received,  giving  a  list  of  daily  services  in  a  church  in  Boston. 


176  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

It  was  a  sign  of  coming  changes  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  which 
he  did  not  wholly  welcome.  "We  don't  undertake  anything  like 
that,"  he  says  in  reply;  "only  a  Wednesday  evening  and  a  Friday 
afternoon  service." 

His  attachment  at  this  time  to  Philadelphia  was  at  its  strongest 
and  he  writes,  defending  it  in  a  comparative  estimate  of  cities: 

"February  20,  1865.  Everything  here  quiet  and  calm.  Phil- 
adelphia does  n't  easily  get  stirred  up.  We  sit  still  and  look  at 
constitutional  amendments,  great  cities  taken,  and  all  that,  and 
are  just  as  glad  as  anybody  if  we  don't  have  jubilation  meetings 
or  fire  a  great  many  cannons.  Northern  people  are  apt  to  sneer 
at  us,  but  there  is  no  city  which, has  done  more  for  the  war,  been 
readier  with  its  regiments,  done  more  for  the  Freedmen,  or  kept 
up  the  Sanitary  and  Christian  Commissions  more  splendidly. 
Don't  sneer  at  Philadelphia.     She  's  a  splendid  city."  * 

The  interest  of  Mr.  Brooks  in  the  freedmen  and  his  activity 
in  their  cause  continued  unabated.  He  was  proud  of  his  aunt 
Susan  for  the  work  she  was  doing  for  them  in  Washington. 
"What  a  great  character,"  he  writes  to  his  father,  "Miss  Susan 
is  becoming.  I  hope  her  fame  won't  turn  her  head."  He  was 
very  determined  about  the  matter  of  the  street  cars,  from  which 
in  Philadelphia  the  negroes  were  still  excluded.  "A  week  from 
to-night  (January  13)  we  are  going  to  have  a  great  meeting 
here  to  try  to  get  rid  of  our  special  Philadelphia  iniquity  of  ex- 
cluding the  negroes  from  the  cars.  I  think  it  will  do  the  work. 
The  meeting  will  be  held  either  in  Concert  Hall  or  the  Academy 
of  Music.  There  are  to  be  a  number  of  speeches,  and  I  have 
promised  to  make  one." 

"March  18,  1865.  Last  Monday  evening  I  spent  at  Harrisburg. 
We  held  a  meeting  in  the  Court  House  and  had  a  pretty  good 
audience.  The  cause  seems  to  be  growing  there.  My  next  work 
in  this  line  is  to  be  at  a  big  meeting  at  the  Cooper  Institute  in 
New  York  about  the  first  of  May.  It  is  to  be  the  beginning  of 
more  united  action  among  various  societies.  Beecher  is  to  speak 
for  the  New  York  Society,  Governor  Andrew  for  the  Boston  and 
I  am  to  bear  the  responsibility  of  ours.     A  great  time  is  expected. 

1  This  tribute  to  Philadelphia  may  be  taken  as  neutralizing  any  reflec- 
tions on  the  fame  of  the  city,  which  might  be  suggested  by  his  sermons, 
when  he  was  denouncing  indifference  or  disloyalty  to  the  government 
in  the  prosecution  of  the  war. 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  177 

For  Particulars  see  small  bills.  Good  news  this  week  again. 
Sherman  and  Sheridan  are  doing  nobly.  It  is  only  a  question  of 
time  now.     Gold  is  down,  but  I  have  n't  got  any,  have  you? " 

"April  1,  1865.  This  is  All  Fools'  Day.  I  have  run  no  risks 
yet,  for  I  have  been  sitting  still  by  my  table  all  the  morning 
writing.  Perhaps  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself  there  however. 
Out  of  the  window  I  have  seen  many  small  boys  fastening  pieces 
of  paper  on  to  people's  backs,  and  watching  mysterious-looking 
paper  bundles  that  are  lying  on  the  sidewalk.  I  think  I  remember 
that  we  used  to  be  up  to  some  tricks  of  the  same  sort  ourselves." 

In  the  spring  of  1865  all  other  things  were  subordinate  to 
the  one  great  event,  the  close  of  the  war.  In  the  career  of  Phil- 
lips Brooks  it  was  a  momentous  epoch.  To  his  imagination  the 
war  had  appeared  as  a  Titanic  conflict,  as  though  heaven  had 
entered  into  a  contest  with  earth,  when  Freedom  and  Slavery 
became  the  contestants  for  the  possession  of  American  nationality. 
What  he  had  watched  in  its  incipient  stages,  as  a  student  in  the 
Virginia  Seminary,  he  was  now  to  behold  in  its  final  act. 

When  the  end  came  at  last,  it  seemed  to  come  suddenly. 
Events  had  been  moving  fast  in  this  direction.  On  February  20th 
had  come  the  news  of  the  taking  of  Columbia,  S.  C.  This  had 
been  followed,  on  February  21st,  by  the  news  of  the  evacuation 
of  Charleston.  On  the  2 2d  of  February  Fort  Sumter  had  been 
retaken.  Then  there  was  a  pause,  while  General  Grant,  with 
an  army  larger  than  ever  before  had  been  collected,  confronted 
the  stronghold  of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  On  Monday,  April 
3d,  the  Union  troops  entered  the  city  of  Richmond.  On  that 
night,  his  young  friend  Franks,  who  was  staying  with  Mr.  Brooks, 
remembers  how  he  said  before  retiring,  "Let  us  kneel  down  and 
pray."  It  was  the  impromptu  thanksgiving  of  one  who  was 
surprised  in  his  joy.  On  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  April  4th,  there 
was  a  meeting  of  the  citizens  of  Philadelphia  in  front  of  Inde- 
pendence Hall,  where  Phillips  Brooks  made  the  prayer.  Among 
his  papers  is  found  a  rough  draft,  which  may  correspond  in  some 
measure  with  the  actual  utterance.     A  few  extracts  are  given: 

"O  Almighty  God,  the  Sovereign  Commander  of  all  the  world, 
in  whose  hands  is  power  and  might  which  none  is  able  to  with- 
stand: we  bless  and  praise,  we  laud  and  magnify,  Thy  glorious 
name. 


178  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"We  praise  Thee,  O  God,  we  acknowledge  Thee  to  be  the  Lord. 
All  the  earth  doth  worship  Thee,  the  Father  everlasting.  .  . 

"Thou  hast  led  us,  O  our  God,  by  wondrous  ways.  Thou  hast 
opened  the  deep  sea  before  us  to  pass  through.  Thou  hast  made 
the  walls  of  our  enemies  to  fall  before  us.  Not  unto  us,  O  Lord, 
not  unto  us,  but  unto  Thy  name  be  the  praise  for  Thy  loving 
mercy  and  Thy  truth's  sake.  .  .  . 

"Not  in  mere  exultation,  not  in  bitter  and  revengeful  malice, 
not  in  mere  pride  and  selfishness,  but  in  a  solemn  reverence,  in 
a  profound  humility,  in  an  absorbing  and  controlling  sense  of 
Thee,  may  we  bow  down  our  glad  heads  and  thank  Thee  for 
the  triumph  which  Thou  hast  given  to  Thine  own  dear  cause  of 
Law  and  Truth,  of  Human  Progress  and  Human  Liberty.  Glory! 
Glory  to  Thy  name.  May  we  stand  still  and  hold  our  breath 
and  know  that  Thou  hast  done  it.  .  .  . 

"We  stand  in  the  presence  of  this  Victory,  O  Lord,  and  anew, 
deliberately  and  solemnly  and  to  the  end,  we  pledge  ourselves  to 
Thee.  Take  us,  our  strength,  our  means,  our  all,  us  and  our 
Land,  for  Thine.  We  dedicate  the  country  Thou  hast  saved  to 
a  purer  life,  a  more  religious  unselfish  patriotism,  a  deeper  loy- 
alty to  the  great  kingship  of  Thy  Son.  Work  out  in  her,  by  her, 
what  purposes  Thou  wilt.  She  is  not  ours,  but  Thine,  hence- 
forth. We  are  Thy  servants.  Give  us  willing  and  patient  hearts 
and  hands  till  Thou  shalt  create  in  our  country  Thy  chosen  pat- 
tern of  Christian  Government  and  Christian  Liberty,  before  the 
nations  of  the  earth.  We  stand  before  Thee,  and  know  not  how 
to  speak.  Read  Thou  our  hearts  and  see  our  thankfulness. 
Thou  art  our  God,  and  we  will  praise  Thee.  Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  towards  men." 

The  following  Sunday  had  been  appointed  as  a  day  of  thanks- 
giving by  Governor  Curtin. 

"Friday,  April  7,  1865.  Began  sermon  on  Luke  xix.  40  ["And 
he  answered  and  said  unto  them,  I  tell  you,  that  if  these  should 
hold  their  peace,  the  stones  would  immediately  cry  out"].  .  .  . 
Sheridan  still  pursuing  Lee  and  has  routed  him  terribly." 

"Sunday,  April  9,  1865.  Next  before  Easter.  Thanksgiving 
for  victories.  a.m.,  at  Holy  Trinity  I  read,  and  preached, 
Luke  xix.  40.  .  .  .  Ten  o'clock  p.  m.,  news  arrived  of  surrender 
of  Lee  with  his  whole  army  to  General  Grant." 

Thus  he  passed  into  Passion  Week  with  its  daily  services  On 
Monday  he  records  that  he  was  "down  town.  Great  excitement 
about  the  news."     On  Maundy  Thursday,  in  the  evening,  there 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  179 

was  the  administration  of  the  holy  communion  at  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Trinity.  On  Good  Friday  he  preached  and  began  the 
writing  of  his  Easter  sermon.  Early  in  the  morning  of  Saturday 
came  the  news  which  turned  the  joy  into  mourning. 

"Saturday,  April  15,  1865.  This  morning  we  woke  up  to  hear 
that  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  President  of  the  United  States,  was 
murdered  last  night  in  Washington.  The  whole  land  is  deep  in 
sorrow,  and  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  pray  for  help." 

"Sunday,  April  16,  1865.  Easter  Day.  A  sad  Easter  Day. 
a.m.,  I  spoke  to  the  Sunday-school  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  Then  at 
church  I  read  and  spoke  again  of  the  President." 

On  this  Easter  Day  the  churches  were  draped  in  mourning. 
The  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity.  Mr.  Brooks  had  not  intended  to  make  any  address, 
but  when  he  saw  the  expectancy  of  the  waiting  congregation 
he  was  moved.  From  a  report  of  his  remarks  in  the  newspapers 
these  extracts  are  taken: 

"  I  confess  that  there  is  one  thing  which  surprised  me  yesterday 
when  I  read  in  some  of  our  papers  that  natural  allusion  which 
occurred  to  all  men, — the  correspondence  between  the  day  of  the 
death  of  our  martyred  President  and  the  day  on  which  our  Lord 
was  crucified  in  our  behalf;  and  I  saw  that  the  papers,  almost 
with  a  tone  of  apology,  spoke  as  if  it  were  a  lack  of  reverence  to 
associate  the  two,  as  if  there  were  some  degradation  to  the  dig- 
nity of  Christ's  nature  when  we  took  the  day  of  His  death  and 
called  it  a  fit  day  for  one  to  lay  down  his  life  for  a  noble  cause. 
I  feel  that  if  there  were  any  day  in  all  the  year  fit  for  martyrdom ; 
if  there  were  any  day  which  one  who  was  to  be  a  martyr  for  the 
cause  he  loved,  might  choose  above  all  others,  it  would  be  that 
Friday  which,  with  all  the  solemnity  and  sadness  which  hung 
about  it  to  those  who  love  their  Lord  and  Master,  the  whole  Christ- 
ian world  has  risen  up  in  its  gratitude  and  called  Good  Friday.  .  .  . 
For  remember  what  Christ  is.  Christ  was  not  merely  a  God 
who  stood  above  us;  the  very  meaning  of  Christ's  coming  into 
this  world  is  that  He  was  a  divinely  human  being  in  whom  every 
high  quality  of  man  was  shown  forth  in  its  perfection,  so  that 
all  goodness  thenceforth  was  to  be  but  the  copy  of  the  life  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  perfect  man.  If  there  has  been  any  high  hero- 
ism in  the  world,  any  triumph  over  evil  and  iniquity,  it  has  been 
only  a  faint  repetition  of  that  great  work  which  the  perfect  man 
did  when  He  triumphed  once  for  all  over  sin,  in  behalf  of  His 


i8o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

redeemed  world.  If  there  has  been  any  man  setting  himself 
earnestly  against  iniquity  as  he  found  it  at  his  especial  time  and 
place,  it  has  been  only  a  rebound  from  that  courage  with  which 
Christ  set  Himself  against  the  wickedness  that  was  in  the  world 
at  His  time.  And  if  so  be  that  another  Pontius  Pilate,  as  weak 
as  he,  is  made  the  agent  of  an  iniquity  as  deep  as  that  which 
brought  the  suffering  Saviour  to  His  death,  and  comes  up  and 
strikes  at  another  man  pure  and  good  and  true  to  some  high  ob- 
ject, shall  we  not  say  that  the  day  is  fit?  Do  we  not  know  that 
God  has  done  all  things,  even  the  least  things  that  concern  Him, 
well?  And  then  when  we  pass  from  Good  Friday  into  Easter  Day, 
shall  we  say  that  there  is  no  association  when  we  see  that  same 
Christ,  martyred  for  the  sins  of  man,  laying  down  His  life  meekly 
and  humbly  for  a  great  and  noble  cause,  after  patiently  suffering 
for  it  during  His  three  years,  rising  gloriously  from  the  grave  and 
shedding  thenceforth  an  influence  which  His  mere  personal  pre- 
sence would  not  have  attained  ?  And  may  we  not  derive  example 
and  inspiration  from  this  new  martyrdom  and  look  forward  to 
the  resurrection  that  is  promised  out  of  it?  Thus  take,  my  dear 
friends,  everything  out  of  the  parable  of  those  old  times,  and 
without  a  fear  of  irreverence  (feeling  that  it  is  the  most  reverent 
thing  that  we  can  do)  apply  it  to  this  trial  in  the  midst  of  which 
we  live,  and  make  it  a  lesson  which  shall  be  the  solemnizing 
strength  of  all  our  lives,  that  henceforth  we  may  be  worthy  of 
having  lived  in  the  time,  and  seen  the  life  and  death  of  Abraham 
Lincoln. 

"  Of  that  man  it  is  not  time  now  to  speak.  We  are  met  to-day 
not  to  eulogize  the  dead,  but  simply  to  pour  out  our  tears  before 
the  Living  God  in  company  with  the  living.  We  are  met  not  as 
those  who  meet  in  an  assemblage  to  praise  some  great  man  of  the 
world.  We  are  met  like  children  who  gather  round  the  hearth- 
stone the  night  their  father  dies,  to  tell  one  another  how  they 
loved  him  and  how  they  mourn  his  loss.  We  are  met  with  a  dis- 
tinctive personal  feeling  that  every  one  of  us  has  suffered  in  the 
loss,  not  merely  of  a  President  who  ruled  in  the  interests  of  our 
State,  but  of  a  man  who  was  to  us  a  friend.  If  anything  struck 
us  as  we  walked  the  streets  yesterday,  it  was  not  the  mere  solem- 
nity which  realized  an  awful  national  loss;  we  also  felt  how  near 
home  that  loss  had  come. 

"  When  the  character  of  Abraham  Lincoln  comes  to  be  gathered 
up,  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  what  shall  be  said  of  him,  that  of 
all  the  men  who  have  ever  lived  in  these  United  States,  and  come 
forth  into  prominence  before  the  world,  he  was  the  man  most 
distinctly  and  in  the  best  and  truest  sense  an  American,  and  he 
is  to  stand  so  before  the  nations  in  coming  time.  .  .  .  In  him 
was  represented  the  majesty  of  those  simplest  virtues  which  all 
mankind  honor  and  admire,  and  which  so  few  men  are  inclined 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  181 

to  cultivate  and  praise  by  the  personal  practice  of  their  own 
lives.  ...  If  there  were  anything  in  this  man  which  shone 
forth  conspicuously  to  his  honor,  it  was  the  instinctive  love  of 
truth  which  was  in  him.  Here  was  a  man  who  had  stood  before 
the  world,  a  most  searching  world,  at  a  singularly  eventful 
period,  and  up  to  the  day  when  he  laid  down  his  life  for  the  truth 
.  he  spoke  the  words  which  his  nature  urged  him  to  speak. 
Bravely  and  boldly  he  told  it,  no  matter  how  men  might  differ 
with  him  or  seek  to  dissuade  him.  .  .  .  The  sublime  inde- 
pendence of  this  man  .  .  .  led  him  to  go  forward  as  fast  as 
his  conscience  drove  him  and  not  faster  because  others  would 
drag  him  forward.  .  .  .  We  knew  that  we  had  a  true  man 
to  rely  upon.  Where  shall  we  find  another  that  shall  take  his 
place,  having  the  earnestness  with  which  he  rebuked  at  once  the 
old  conservatism  and  the  vast  radicalism  of  our  time? 

"  Shall  I  say  more?  Yes,  there  is  more  to  say,  for  when  we 
speak  of  the  truth  and  independence  of  such  a  man,  they  are  only 
vestibules  to  that  higher  quality,  his  reverent  fear  of  God.  I 
believe  from  my  heart  that  if  there  be  a  man  who  has  left  on 
record  that  he  was  a  Christian  man,  a  servant  and  follower  of 
Jesus  Christ,  it  is  he  who  lies  dead  in  the  coffin  to-day.  What 
are  the  evidences  of  the  service  of  Christ?  If  they  be  a  constant 
submission  to  His  will,  an  habitual  reverence  to  His  authority, 
an  eye  that  always  looks  up  in  danger  for  deliverance,  and  looks 
up  in  success  for  thankfulness,  an  eye  that  always  seeks  out  a 
guidance  which  is  not  of  man  but  of  God,  which  is  always  ready 
to  be  led  and  is  always  afraid  of  going  beyond  the  commands  of  a 
Higher  Voice — if  this  constitutes  a  Christian  character,  all  this 
there  was  in  him.  We  rejoice  in  the  hope  not  merely  of  a  noble 
influence  for  our  country,  but  of  a  glorious  resurrection  and  an 
eternal  life  for  him  whom  we  have  revered  as  a  father  and  loved 
more  than  we  could  love  any  human  friend." 

On  Easter  Monday  there  was  a  meeting  of  the  Union  League, 
which  Mr.  Brooks  opened  with  prayer,  with  thanksgiving  to 
God  for  the  life  and  character  of  Lincoln : 

"We  thank  Thee  that  thou  didst  put  into  the  hearts  of  this  peo- 
ple to  choose  such  a  man,  so  full  of  goodness  and  truth  and  faith- 
fulness, of  patience,  serenity,  and  composure,  of  such  wisdom  to 
perceive  the  truth  and  such  steadfastness  to  do  it;  for  the  ear- 
nestness with  which  he  laid  hold  upon  the  great  purpose  before 
him,  and  the  calm  and  wise  perseverance  with  which  he  followed 
it.  .  .  .  We  pledge  ourselves  anew  to  Thy  service.  Hold  us 
up  until  the  great  end  of  Thy  Providence  be  fulfilled,  until  all  the 
wrong  that  has  cursed  our  land  be  righted  and  the  iniquity  of  our 
fathers  be  done  away." 


i82  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

This  service  at  the  Union  League  was  at  twelve  o'clock. 
At  one  o'clock  there  was  a  meeting  of  the  women  of  Phila- 
delphia in  Concert  Hall.  "  It  was  perhaps,"  says  the  report  of 
its  proceedings,  "the  most  extraordinary  meeting  ever  held  in 
this  city."  To  this  meeting  came  also  Phillips  Brooks,  and  this 
was  the  substance  of  his  remarks :  "God  allowed  Abraham  Lincoln 
to  stay  until  he  stood  at  the  grave  of  slavery.  God  allowed  him 
to  stand  and  look  on  the  land  and  not  see  a  black  face  which 
was  not  radiant  with  freedom.  Slavery  had  been  blotted  out 
before  God  called  him  to  his  rest.  It  is  for  this  that  we  have 
cause  to  thank  God  for  Abraham  Lincoln.  Now  the  women 
of  America  have  a  duty  to  perform.  They  can  by  their  influence 
shut  out  from  social  intercourse  those  who  palliate  the  great 
crime  of  the  century.  Another  thing  can  be  done  by  women. 
Never  before  had  we  witnessed  such  frivolities  and  extravagances 
as  during  the  last  winter.  If  from  this  day  forth  they  do  not 
resolve  to  stop  this,  it  had  been  better  we  had  not  met,  and  the 
great  loss  we  have  suffered  will  be  in  vain." 

"Wednesday,  April  19,  1865.  The  whole  city  in  mourning  for 
President  Lincoln's  funeral.  Service  in  church  at  the  hour  of 
the  Funeral,  twelve  m. 

"Friday,  April  21,  1865.  Began  sermon  on  Ps.  lxxviii.  71- 
73:  'He  chose  David  also  his  servant,  and  took  him  away  from 
the  sheepfolds:  .  .  .  that  he  might  feed  Jacob  his  people, 
and  Israel  his  inheritance.  So  he  fed  them  with  a  faithful  and 
true  heart,  and  ruled  them  prudently  with  all  his  power.' 

"Saturday,  April  22,  1865.  a.m.  Finished  sermon  on  the 
Character,  Life,  and  Death  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  p.m.  President 
Lincoln's  remains  arrived  from  Washington,  and  will  lie  in 
Independence  Hall  all  day  to-morrow.  I  went  down  with  the 
Union  League  when  the  body  was  received,  and  saw  it." 

The  sermon  which  was  preached  on  the  first  Sunday  after 
Easter,  April  23d,  on  the  character  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  was  at  once  pub- 
lished by  request,  and  must  rank  among  Phillips  Brooks's  great 
sermons.  It  has  additional  importance  as  forming  a  chapter  in 
the  biography  of  Brooks  himself.  No  man  can  study  the  life  of 
another,  as  he  was  studying  the  life  of  Lincoln,  or  admire  as  he 
admired,  in  gratitude  and  reverence,  without  being  influenced 
by  the  model  he  had  chosen.  Among  the  forces  which  combined 
to  mould  the  life  of  Brooks,  a  place  must  be  assigned  to  the  char- 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  183 

acter  and  the  career  of  the  great  martyr  of  the  civil  war.  Lin- 
coln became  to  him  the  ideal  of  a  man  and  of  an  American. 
When  Lincoln  died  the  question  was  asked  by  many,  who  were 
forecasting  the  estimate  to  be  made  of  him  by  posterity,  whether 
or  not  he  were  an  intellectual  man,  or  whether  his  greatness  were 
not  exclusively  in  the  moral  sphere.  There  was  a  tone  of  resent- 
ment in  Brooks's  soul  that  such  an  issue  should  be  raised.  Al- 
ready he  had  begun  to  see  the  solution  of  what  was  his  own  life 
problem.     The  following  passage  has  an  autobiographic  quality: 

"As  to  the  moral  and  mental  powers  which  distinguish  him, 
all  embraceable  under  this  general  description  of  clearness  or 
truth,  the  most  remarkable  thing  is  the  way  in  which  they  blend 
with  one  another,  so  that  it  is  next  to  impossible  to  examine 
them  in  separation.  A  great  many  people  have  discussed  very 
crudely  whether  Abraham  Lincoln  was  an  intellectual  man  or  not ; 
as  if  intellect  were  a  thing  always  of  the  same  sort,  which  you 
could  precipitate  from  the  other  constituents  of  a  man's  nature 
and  weigh  by  itself,  and  compare  by  pounds  and  ounces  in  this 
man  with  another.  The  fact  is  that  in  all  the  simplest  characters 
the  line  between  the  mental  and  moral  natures  is  always  vague 
and  indistinct.  They  run  together,  and  in  their  best  combina- 
tion you  are  unable  to  discriminate,  in  the  wisdom  which  is  their 
result,  how  much  is  moral  and  how  much  is  intellectual.  You 
are  unable  to  tell  whether,  in  the  wise  acts  and  words  which  issue 
from  such  a  life,  there  is  more  of  the  righteousness  that  comes  of 
a  clear  conscience  or  of  the  sagacity  that  comes  of  a  clear  brain. 
In  more  complex  characters  and  under  more  complex  conditions 
the  moral  and  the  mental  lives  come  to  be  less  healthily  combined. 
They  co-operate  and  help  each  other  less.  They  come  more  to 
stand  over  against  each  other  as  antagonists;  till  we  have  that 
vague  but  most  melancholy  notion  which  pervades  the  life  of  all 
elaborate  civilization,  that  goodness  and  greatness,  as  we  call 
them,  are  not  to  be  looked  for  together;  till  we  expect  to  see,  and 
do  see,  a  feeble  and  narrow  conscientiousness  on  the  one  hand 
and  a  bad,  unprincipled  intelligence  on  the  other,  dividing  the 
suffrages  of  men. 

"It  is  the  great  boon  of  such  characters  as  Mr.  Lincoln's  that 
they  reunite  what  God  has  joined  together  and  what  man  has  put 
asunder.  In  him  was  vindicated  the  greatness  of  real  goodness 
and  the  goodness  of  real  greatness.  The  twain  were  one  flesh. 
Not  one  of  all  the  multitudes  who  stood  and  looked  up  to  him  for 
direction,  with  such  loving  and  implicit  trust,  can  tell  you  to-day 
whether  the  wise  judgments  that  he  gave  came  most  from  a  wise 
head  or  a  sound  heart.    If  you  ask  them  they  are  puzzled.    There 


i84  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

are  men  as  good  as  he,  but  they  do  bad  things;  there  are  men  as 
intelligent  as  he,  but  they  do  foolish  things.  In  him  goodness 
and  intelligence  combined  and  made  their  best  result  of  wisdom. 
For  perfect  truth  consists  not  merely  in  the  right  constituents  of 
character,  but  in  their  right  and  intimate  conjunction.  The  union 
of  the  mental  and  moral  into  a  life  of  admirable  simplicity  is  what 
we  most  admire  in  children,  but  in  them  it  is  unsettled  and 
unpractical.  But  when  it  is  preserved  into  a  manhood,  deepened 
into  reliability  and  maturity,  it  is  that  glorified  childlikeness, 
that  high  and  revered  simplicity,  which  shames  and  baffles  the 
most  accomplished  astuteness,  and  is  chosen  by  God  to  fill  His 
purposes  when  He  needs  a  ruler  for  His  people  of  faithful  and  true 
heart  such  as  he  had  who  was  our  President." 


The  sermon  on  Lincoln  has  been  so  widely  disseminated, 
that  it  calls  here  for  no  further  summary  or  analysis.  He 
touched  the  subject  of  the  origin  of  the  civil  war,  asking  whether 
the  Northern  abolitionists  were  right  or  wrong,  whether  they  did 
harm  or  good.  He  replies  that  the  issue  was  an  inevitable  one, 
the  conflict  between  two  different  types  of  civilization,  two  di- 
vergent natures,  long  advancing  to  an  encounter,  meeting  at  last, 
and  a  whole  country  yet  trembling  with  the  shock  to  bear  wit- 
ness how  terrible  the  meeting  was. 

The  funeral  procession  of  Mr.  Lincoln  reached  New  York  on 
the  24th  of  April,  and  Phillips  Brooks  was  there  the  whole  of  the 
next  day  to  witness  the  repetition  on  a  still  larger  scale  of  what 
he  had  seen  in  Philadelphia.  His  father  had  been  so  deeply 
moved  that  he  wrote,  "Oh,  my  dear  son,  where  are  we  now!  I 
am  too  heartsick  to  write."     Of  the  event  in  Boston,  he  says: 

"A  solemn  day.  I  have  never  seen  one  here  more  so.  I  went 
into  the  Exchange  in  the  morning ;  the  room  was  full,  but  all  was 
hushed  and  still,  where  generally  we  find  noise  and  bustle.  So 
it  was  everywhere ;  the  streets  were  full  all  day,  but  all  quiet  and 
subdued.  Minute  guns  were  fired,  bells  were  tolled,  and  with  a 
meeting  for  prayer  and  addresses  on  the  Common  the  day  closed. 
A  more  general  closing  of  stores  I  have  never  seen,  even  more  so 
than  on  Sunday." 

Phillips  Brooks  was  wondering  during  these  eventful  days  at 
the  silence  of  his  mother.  In  response  to  his  inquiry  why  she  did 
not  write,  he  received  this  letter: 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  185 

"Boston,  March  15,  1865. 

"My  dearest  Philly, — I  was  delighted  to  get  your  letter, 
and  will  gladly  comply  with  your  request  to  answer  it.  I  am 
fully  aware  of  my  long  silence,  but,  my  dear  boy,  it  is  not  neglect; 
that  is  the  last  sin  I  shall  ever  commit  towards  you  or  any  of  my 
children. 

"And  I  know,  too,  how  I  used  to  write  to  you  at  the  Seminary, 
but,  Philly,  things  are  all  changed  now.  I  cannot  write  letters 
now  that  are  worth  answering,  and  therefore  I  hate  to  tax  any 
one  to  answer  them.  My  thoughts  are  all  dead.  Sometimes  I 
really  feel  that  nothing  but  the  Mother's  love  remains  in  me. 
That  will  never  cease,  for  the  dead  or  the  living.  And,  Philly, 
often  now,  truly  I  don't  feel  equal  to  writing  to  you.  You  have 
got  before  me  now,  and  this  is  the  course  in  all  nature.  The  old 
stalk  is  good  for  nothing  after  it  has  yielded  its  fruit.  Just  so  it 
is  with  you  and  me.  My  work  is  done,  and  I  am  perfectly  willing 
to  have  it  so  when  the  fruit  so  far  excels  the  parent  stock.  Now, 
Philly,  I  feel  all  this,  and  this  is  one  reason,  I  suppose,  I  do  not 
write  often. 

"  At  the  same  time  I  allow  no  position  nor  powers  nor  learning 
can  alter  the  relation  of  parent  and  child.  That  shall  remain  dear, 
precious,  holy,  invaluable,  forever  to  both  of  us.  And  I  thank 
you  and  love  you,  dear  Philly,  for  placing  such  a  value  on  the  old 
stock  when  it  has  become  such  a  useless  thing.     .     .     ." 

There  was  reaction  after  the  tension  and  exaltation  connected 
with  the  death  of  Lincoln.  Circumstances  of  a  trying  character 
were  also  annoying  him  to  the  last  degree.  But  he  kept  to  his 
work  as  usual,  the  sermon-writing,  the  visiting,  and  the  studies. 
On  the  fourth  Sunday  after  Easter,  came  the  Confirmation,  when 
eighty-one  candidates  were  presented.  On  May  23d  he  was  in 
Washington,  where  he  spent  the  whole  day  in  seeing  the  great 
review  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  before  it  finally  disbanded 
and  the  soldiers  returned  to  their  homes.  He  preached  the  Bac- 
calaureate Sermon  before  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  on 
Sunday,  the  28th  of  May.  On  May  29th,  he  writes:  "I  had  a 
letter  the  other  day  from  Professor  Child  at  Cambridge,  asking 
me  to  make  a  prayer  at  the  Commemoration  of  the  Harvard 
soldiers,  at  Harvard  on  the  21st  of  July.  I  wrote  accepting. 
It  will  be  a  great  time  I  expect." 

Instead  of  keeping  festival  when  the  war  was  over,  the  nation 
was  called  by  proclamation  from  Mr.  Lincoln's  successor  to  a 
day  of  fasting,  humiliation,  and  prayer.     Mr.  Brooks  came  once 


i86  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

more  to  the  study  of  Lincoln's  life  and  character.  He  preached 
no  sermon,  but  read  to  his  congregation  selections  from  Lincoln's 
speeches,  interspersed  with  remarks  of  his  own, — the  whole  con- 
stituting an  epitome  of  the  war,  with  Lincoln's  words  as  the 
commentary  on  its  meaning.  Throughout  the  service  Lincoln 
was  speaking, — in  his  farewell  address  to  the  people  of  Spring- 
field when  he  invoked  the  people's  prayers,  in  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation,  the  address  at  Gettysburg,  and  finally  the  pathetic 
second  inaugural. 

The  day  which  had  been  fixed  for  the  Harvard  Commemora- 
tion was  Friday,  the  21st  of  July,  and  it  was  intended  that  it 
should  be  a  great  day  in  Harvard  annals.  The  glory  and  strength 
of  New  England  were  to  be  there,  the  sons  of  Harvard  from 
far  and  near,  and  her  most  distinguished  representatives.  A 
great  company  of  returned  Union  soldiers  were  to  be  there  to 
receive  a  greeting,  and  in  the  remembrance  of  those  who  had 
gone  forth  to  return  no  more,  the  deep  emotions  would  be  stirred 
which  the  living  feel  when  contemplating  the  valor  and  the 
sacrifice  of  the  patriotic  dead.  The  day  proved  to  be  fine, 
though  exceedingly  warm.  The  buildings  were  decorated  with 
flags,  and  a  large  number  of  people  were  assembled  in  and  about 
the  college  grounds.  At  eleven  o'clock,  the  procession  moved 
from  the  front  of  Gore  Hall  passing  through  the  opened  ranks 
of  the  civil  alumni  amid  great  cheering. 

After  making  a  tour  of  the  college  grounds,  the  procession 
marched  to  the  First  Parish  Church,  the  galleries  and  side  pews 
of  which  were  densely  crowded  with  ladies  and  gentlemen.  As 
the  long  array  of  heroes  passed  up  the  central  aisle,  the  audience 
showered  upon  them  repeated  applause.  General  Meade  was 
among  the  distinguished  guests,  and  General  Barlow  was  singled 
out  for  renewed  cheering.  Others  from  among  the  alumni  were 
Major-Generals  Force,  Devens,  Paine,  Hayes,  and  Loring; 
Brigadier-Generals  Bartlett,  Eustis,  Sargent,  Ames,  Walcott, 
Stevens;  Colonels  Higginson,  Savage,  Palfrey,  Crowninshield, 
Russell,  Huidekoper,  and  many  others.  The  prayer  was  offered 
by  Phillips  Brooks,  and  was  followed  by  a  hymn  written  for  the 
occasion  by  Robert  Lowell,  and  then  came  the  address  by  Rev. 
George  Putnam  of  Roxbury.  Afterward  were  addresses  by 
General  Barlow,  General  Devens,  Governor  Andrew,  and  Presi- 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  187 

dent  Hill.  "Fair  Harvard"  was  played.  Poems  were  read  by- 
Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  R.  W.  Emerson,  Dr.  O.  W.  Holmes ;  and 
James  Russell  Lowell  read  his  famous  Commemoration  Ode. 
It  is  a  rare  event  when  a  man  appears  who  can  utter  the  word 
which  a  great  moment  demands.  Such  an  event  it  had  been 
when  Lincoln  made  his  address  at  Gettysburg.  Such  a  word  it 
now  was  given  to  Phillips  Brooks  to  speak.  When  the  prayer 
was  over,  the  people  turned  and  looked  at  one  another.  Some 
of  the  contemporary  comments  indicate  the  impression  it  left: 

"As  he  stood  in  all  the  majestic  beauty  with  which  he  is 
endowed  by  favoring  nature,  he  stood,  to  mortal  eye,  confessed 
of  hosts  the  leader  and  of  princes  the  king.  .  .  .  One  would 
rather  have  been  able  to  pray  that  prayer  than  to  lead  an  army 
or  conduct  a  state.  .  .  .  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  that 
prayer  was  the  crowning  grace  of  the  Commemoration." 

"When  the  'Amen'  came  [runs  another  testimony],  it  seemed 
that  the  occasion  was  over,  that  the  harmonies  of  the  music  had 
been  anticipated,  that  the  poem  had  been  read  and  the  oration 
already  uttered,  that  after  such  a  prayer  every  other  exercise 
might  well  be  dispensed  with." 

"All  that  I  discern  [said  Dr.  W.  R.  Huntington]  as  I  look  into 
that  wholly  blurred  mirror  is  the  image  of  Brooks,  standing  in  his 
black  gown  in  the  pulpit  of  the  old  Harvard  Square  Church, 
his  great  head  thrown  back,  his  face  looking  as  if  it  might  be 
Stephen's,  while  there  went  forth  from  his  lips  a  fiery  stream  of 
thanksgiving  and  supplication  the  like  of  which  I  never  knew. 
I  remember  where  I  was  sitting  in  the  crowded  north  gallery, 
and  I  remember  Brooks,. and  I  remember  my  pride  in  him — these 
three,  the  place,  the  man,  and  the  pride,  are  all  that  I  remember." 

"  In  the  annals  of  our  College,  there  is  a  red-letter  day,  Com- 
memoration Day;  when,  after  years  haggard  with  anxiety,  the 
mother  welcomed  back  the  remnant  of  her  children  who  had 
escaped  '  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness,  the  destruction 
that  wasteth  at  noonday.' 

"  On  that  day  words  seemed  powerless;  they  did  not  vent  the 
overflowing  of  sympathy  and  gratitude  all  felt. 

"But  in  the  exercises  came  a  prayer,  a  brief  prayer  of  a  few 
minutes,  of  one  inspired  to  pour  forth  the  thanksgiving  of  the 
assembled  brethren. 

"From  that  moment  the  name  of  that  inspired  young  man,  till 
then  unknown,  became  a  household  word."  x 

1  Colonel  Henry  Lee  in  Proceedings  of  Mass.  Hist.  Soc,  2d  Series,  vol. 
viii.,  1892-1894,  p.  82. 


i88  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  It  was  the  most  impressive  utterance  [said  President  Eliot]  of 
a  proud  and  happy  day.  Even  Lowell's  Commemoration  Ode 
did  not  at  the  moment  so  touch  the  hearts  of  his  hearers ;  that 
one  spontaneous  and  intimate  expression  of  Brooks's  noble  spirit 
convinced  all  Harvard  men  that  a  young  prophet  had  risen  up 
in  Israel." 

Of  this  prayer  no  record  remains.  Its  glowing  sentences  have 
been  forgotten.  In  Mr.  Brooks's  papers  no  trace  of  it  is  found, — 
and  it  is  vain  to  try  to  reconstruct  it.  It  may  seem  inappropriate 
to  comment  on  the  eloquence  of  a  prayer  to  God.  But  there  are 
different  kinds  of  prayer.  There  is  a  conception  of  prayer,  where 
it  does  not  seem  inapt  to  offer  to  God  the  gift  of  human  oratory — 
what  the  Germans  call  the  Andacht,  where,  when  the  most  im- 
pressive form  of  human  utterance  is  desired,  and  the  oration  and 
the  poem  fail  in  the  surging  of  the  tide  of  human  emotions,  the 
orator  turns  to  the  living  God,  who  alone  sees  and  knows  things 
as  they  are,  to  whom  it  is  becoming  to  say  things  which  otherwise 
the  presence  of  no  audience  would  justify.  The  highest  reach  of 
human  eloquence  is  only  attainable  in  prayer. 

The  experiences  of  the  war  left  Phillips  Brooks  a  larger  man 
and  a  different  man  from  what  he  was  before.  Henceforth  he 
was  no  longer  his  own,  but  had  been  bought  with  a  price.  He 
had  made  the  sacrifice  of  himself, — a  confessor  though  not  a 
martyr.  Into  that  sacrifice  he  had  poured  all  that  made  life  dear, 
and  a  thing  to  be  desired.  He  did  not  himself  know  the  depth  or 
the  extent  of  his  self-abnegation.  The  changes  and  the  chances 
of  life  went  over  him  at  a  critical  hour,  when  he  was  absorbed  in 
a  supreme  issue,  losing  himself  in  God,  for  country,  for  freedom 
and  humanity.  He  had  the  compensations  which  belong  to  the 
confessor, — the  world's  honor  and  love.  To  that  world  which 
he  loved  and  took  to  his  heart  he  was  henceforth  to  give  himself 
unstintingly  till  life  was  done. 

The  approach  of  the  summer  had  brought  with  it  a  plan  of 
spending  a  year  in  foreign  travel.  The  request  for  absence  from 
his  parish  was  at  once  granted  by  the  vestry  with  the  continuance 
of  his  salary.  The  break  in  his  life  thus  afforded,  with  its  oppor- 
tunity for  reflection,  and  of  subsidence  into  a  calmer  mood  after 
the  excitement  and  agitation,  was  an  important  incident  in  his 
life.     How  much  it  meant  to  him  in  other  ways  it  may  be  left  to 


CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR  189 

him  to  express.  After  Commemoration  Day  at  Harvard,  only  a 
brief  time  elapsed  before  he  sailed.  The  days  were  spent  in  pre- 
paration, and  for  the  rest  in  the  usual  manner  when  at  home. 
Evidence  of  excitement  over  what  is  before  him  is  shown  in  the 
neglect  of  his  diary,  which  is  now  irregularly  kept.  On  the  23d  of 
July  he  was  at  Newport  for  a  short  visit,  staying  with  parishion- 
ers, and  preaching  in  All  Saints'  Chapel.  There  are  allusions  to 
bathing  and  riding,  and  to  playing  croquet  while  he  was  there. 
It  was  hard  for  his  mother  as  she  gave  her  blessing  on  his  purpose. 
A  parting  tribute  was  paid  to  him  by  his  parish  in  Philadelphia. 
His  great  congregation  and  numerous  friends,  and  the  church  at 
large,  were  reluctant  to  miss  for  so  long  a  period  his  singularly 
powerful  and  attractive  ministrations.  He  went  accompanied 
with  the  prayers  of  thousands  for  his  happy  journeying  and  his 
safe  return.  On  Wednesday  morning,  August  9th,  he  sailed  from 
New  York  in  the  steamer  Scotia  of  the  Cunard  Line  for  England. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
1865-1869. 

THE  YEAR  IN  EUROPE.  REMINISCENCES.  CALL  TO 
THE  EPISCOPAL  THEOLOGICAL  SCHOOL.  NOTES 
FROM  HIS  JOURNAL.  LETTER  TO  DEAN  STANLEY. 
CALL   TO    TRINITY    CHURCH,    BOSTON. 

While  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Europe  he  wrote  letters  every  week 
to  his  family  and  kept  an  elaborate  journal.  No  American 
ever  left  home  for  the  first  time,  to  travel  in  the  Old  World 
with  a  keener  appreciation  of  the  value  of  the  opportunity 
afforded  him.  It  was  a  year  for  realizing  the  visions  accum- 
ulated in  his  preparation  for  living. 

"  If  everybody  who  goes  to  Europe  could  look  back  on  such  a 
voyage  as  we  had,  Europe  would  needs  be  very  great  to  be  worthy 
of  such  an  admission  to  it.  The  entrance  way  so  glorious  de- 
mands a  very  glorious  structure.  I  shall  never  forget  those  still, 
long  summer  days,  steeped  full  of  the  sunshine,  when  with 
nothing  to  do,  all  care  and  responsibility  of  necessity  suspended, 
we  just  lived  and  looked  and  learned  to  love  the  sea  for  its  great- 
ness and  gentleness,  for  a  certain  large,  calm  beauty  which 
took  nothing  from  its  grandeur.  We  had  no  storms,  and  only 
two  foggy  nights,  when  we  ran  shrieking  into  the  bosom  of  an 
endless  cloud,  with  that  wild  cry  which  blends  fear  for  self  and 
warning  for  others,  and  gives  both  awe  and  comfort  to  those 
who  look  out  into  the  white  darkness  and  hear  it, — only  two 
such  nights  gave  us  any  of  the  sense  of  danger  from  which  we 
would  not  have  had  our  voyage  wholly  free. 

"  How  strange  it  seemed  at  first!  That  earliest  day  was  sim- 
ply full  of  wonder  and  amusement.  One  was  merely  getting  en 
rapport  with  the  oldness  of  the  thing — getting  his  new  atmos- 
phere about  him — learning  to  shape  his  eyes  to  the  new  focus  at 
which  he  must  bring  to  his  brain  things  five  hundred  years  old 
instead  of  things  fifty.  It  was  not  done  wholly  in  one  day,  but 
it  was  remarkable  to  see  how  much  the  mental  process,  like  the 
corresponding  physical  one,  was  instinctive." 

190 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  191 

Dublin  was  the  first  city  he  visited.  From  Ireland  he  went  to 
Scotland.  Edinburgh  appeared  to  him  the  queen  of  cities.  Of 
Mary  Stuart  and  the  associations  with  her  of  which  Edinburgh 
is  full  he  remarks  that  "they  are  of  great  aid  in  keeping  alive 
pure  romance  as  distinct  from  heroism."  He  made  the  familiar 
pilgrimage  to  Melrose  and  Abbotsford:  "Abbotsford  I  would 
have  gone  to  Europe  to  see  alone.  The  sight  of  it  seemed  to 
make  its  great  master  a  new  and  ineffaceable  possession."  From 
Scotland  he  went  to  the  English  lakes  with  thoughts  of  Words- 
worth and  Coleridge  in  his  mind,  of  Dr.  Arnold  and  De  Quincey. 
His  enthusiasm  was  fired  anew  by  these  literary  associations  in 
combination  with  the  charms  of  the  natural  scenery.  He  de- 
scribes a  Sunday  at  Ambleside: 

"  The  first  Evangelical  English  Church  I  have  seen.  The 
sermon  very  poor.  The  service  read.  The  High  Churchmen 
here  intone  the  service,  and  the  Low  Churchmen  intone  the 
sermon.  How  the  Englishmen  are  at  home  in  their  island. 
They  are  so  long  here,  and  have  it  so  well  'in  hand.'  It  makes 
us  feel  how  new  we  are  in  America,  and  how  little  we  have  got 
hold  of  it  yet.     Wait  awhile." 

His  first  cathedral  was  Durham.  He  was  delighted  with  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  the  author  of  the  life  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  gaining  from 
her  information  about  literary  people  in  England.  A  letter  of 
introduction  given  him  by  Mrs.  Gaskell  only  admitted  him  to 
Ruskin's  house,  for  Ruskin  himself  was  away  from  home.  He 
looked  eagerly  about  the  rooms  which  bore  the  traces  of  his 
presence.  On  his  way  to  London  he  took  in  the  eastern  line  of 
cathedrals,  Ripon  and  York,  Lincoln  and  Ely,  Fountain  Abbey 
also,  and  Cambridge. 

Amidst  beautiful  English  scenery,  and  the  charm  of  its  mon- 
uments, he  writes,  "I  had  no  idea,  till  I  came  here,  what  a 
tremendous  American  I  was."  At  Boston  he  looked  with  a 
personal  interest  at  the  Cotton  Chapel,  named  after  his  ancestor. 
After  reaching  London,  his  quarters  were  at  the  head  of  the 
Strand,  near  Trafalgar  Square  and  Westminster  Abbey.  He 
repeats  to  himself  that  he  is  in  London.  He  was  kindly  received 
by  his  kinsman,  Hon.  Charles  Francis  Adams,  the  United  States 
minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James.  He  called  on  Dean  Milman, 
who  received  him  most  kindly,  but  the  deanery  was  in  disorder, 


i92  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

cutting  short  his  visit.     The  dean,  however,  offered  him  religious 
hospitality  at  the  cathedral,  and  urged  him  to  hear  Melville. 

"  In  the  afternoon  [Sunday,  September  17]  I  went  to  St.  Paul's 
and  heard  Melville,  the  Preacher  of  the  Golden  Lectures.  Dean 
Milman  told  me  the  night  before  he  was  to  preach  and  told  me 
also  that  he  had  just  lost  a  daughter  and  he  (Milman)  had 
offered  to  take  his  place,  but  he  preferred  to  do  his  own  regular 
work.  It  was  a  perfect  sermon,  from  'Now  the  God  of  peace 
grant  you  peace  always  by  all  means.'  The  division  and  whole 
treatment  was  the  simplest  and  most  obvious.  The  style  as 
clear  and  exquisite  as  possible — no  action,  but  the  most  finished 
intonation  and  articulation.  He  is  an  old,  white-headed  man 
with  a  noble  figure  and  earnest,  kindly  face.  'You  cannot 
come  out  of  season  to  the  Tree  of  Life,'  he  said,  referring  to 
Rev.  xx.  2 :  '  You  may  bring  your  season  with  you,  and  the 
tree  takes  it.  You  come  in  autumn,  and  it  is  an  autumn  tree, 
and  bears  autumn  fruit.'  It  was  the  most  perfect  sermon,  all 
in  all,  that  I  ever  heard." 

Other  preachers  that  he  heard  were  Maurice  and  Martineau. 
Of  Spurgeon  he  writes :  "A  fearful  crowd  and  too  long  a  sermon- 
But  it  was  good  of  its  kind;  and  since  such  a  kind  always  has 
been  and  always  will  be,  why,  the  better  it  is  of  its  kind,  the 
better." 

To  one  of  his  friends  who  had  asked  for  his  impressions  of 
Browning,  whom  he  met  in  London,  he  writes: 

"  I  can't  say  anything  now  except  that  he  is  one  of  the  nicest 
people  to  pass  an  evening  with  in  London.  He  is  just  what  you 
see  him  in  that  picture  [a  photograph  enclosed],  a  clear-headed 
and  particularly  clear-eyed  man  of  the  world,  devoted  to  society, 
one  of  the  greatest  diners-out  in  London,  cordial  and  hearty  as 
a  dear  old  uncle,  shakes  your  hand  as  if  he  were  really  glad  to 
see  you.  He  seemed  to  me  very  like  some  of  the  best  of  Thack- 
eray's London  men.  A  full-souled  American.  .  .  .  As  to 
his  talk  it  was  n't  Sordello  and  it  was  n't  as  fine  as  Paracelsus, 
but  nobody  ever  talked  more  nobly,  truly,  and  cheerily  than  he. 
I  went  home  and  slept  after  hearing  him  as  one  does  after  a 
fresh  starlight  walk  with  a  good  cool  breeze  on  his  face." 

While  in  London  he  spent  much  of  his  time  at  the  National 
Gallery  and  the  Kensington  Museum,  where  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  modern  English  art.  Finding  the  time  of  the  year 
(September)  unfavorable  for  seeing  people  he  cut  short  his  stay, 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  193 

and  left  for  the  Continent,  with  the  intention  of  returning  before 
his  tour  was  over.  Among  his  final  impressions  he  records  his 
disappointment  in  cathedrals:  "Cathedral  life  has  come  to 
appear  to  me,  with  all  its  elegant  retirement,  one  of  the  most 
disagreeable  of  things,  and  Cathedral  towns  the  deadest  things 
in  England." 

From  Ostend,  where  he  felt  more  keenly  the  consciousness  of 
being  actually  in  Europe,  he  resumed  his  journey,  stopping  at 
Bruges  and  Ghent  and  Brussels,  and  going  out  to  the  battlefield 
of  Waterloo.  He  made  the  acquaintance  of  Rubens  at  Antwerp, 
and  of  Rembrandt  at  The  Hague.  And  so  he  came  to  Germany. 
He  respected,  he  says,  the  Dutch,  but  he  liked  the  Germans. 
He  felt  that  he  was  passing  an  invisible  line  when  he  first  came 
in  contact,  at  Cologne,  with  Roman  churches  and  relics.  This 
brought  him  to  Bonn,  where  he  writes  (October  2d)  in  view  of 
Mayence,  Heidelberg,  and  Frankfort: 

"  Am  I  not  a  lucky  chap  to  see  all  this?  I  am  splendidly  well 
and  keep  on  the  go  all  the  time,  and  am  getting  the  hang  of 
German  enough  to  be  quite  at  home  with  the  people.  I  eschew 
all  delicacies  and  rough  it  generally.  Last  night  I  found  a 
feather  bed  for  covering  in  my  room.  I  kicked  it  off  and  slept 
like  a  top  without  it.  The  worst  thing  to  me  about  this  travel- 
ling is  that  you  can't  drink  water.  Think  of  my  misery.  But 
it  is  too  vile  to  touch.  ...  I  would  give  a  dollar  for  a 
pitcher  of  ice  water  to-night.  I  think  I  did  right  in  coming  alone, 
that  is  as  no  very  intimate  friend  offered.  I  find  companions 
everywhere,  and  see  much  more  of  the  people  than  if  I  were  with 
a  party  of  my  own." 

Going  up  the  Rhine  was  a  great  event,  and  at  Coblentz  he 
stopped,  in  order  to  climb  to  the  Castle  of  Ehrenbreitstein. 
Luther  and  Goethe  came  up  before  him,  first  at  Worms  and 
Frankfort,  and  then  more  vividly  as  he  visited  Eisenach  and 
the  Wartburg  and  Wittenberg,  and  the  home  of  Goethe  at 
Weimar.     Of  a  Sunday  spent  at  Frankfort,  he  says: 

"In  the  morning  I  went  to  the  Cathedral  and  heard  some  fine 
German  music  and  a  sermon  in  German  from  some  priest  or  other 
which  interested  me  much.  It  was  the  most  earnest  preaching, 
at  least,  which  it  has  been  my  lot  to  hear  in  the  Old  World.  .  .  . 
Then  I  went  and  saw  the  house  where  Goethe  was  born.     I  have 

13 


i94  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

liked  Frankfort  very  much  indeed.  In  the  afternoon  I  went 
again  to  the  Cathedral,  and  heard  the  same  man  preach;  and 
then  came  the  service  of  [the  Benediction]  of  the  Mass,  with  the 
most  superb  congregational  singing  I  ever  heard — it  rings  in 
my  ears  now.  Those  full  German  voices,  every  one  singing  the 
sonorous  German  words,  produced  a  wonderful  effect.  I  almost 
trembled  when  I  saw  and  felt  the  power  of  pure  emotion  in 
religious  things,  and  thought  I  could  understand  how  so  many 
have  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  bow  as  that  splendid  procession 
of  the  host  went  by  with  its  thrilling  incense  and  thrilling  music, 
and  then  by  and  by  bowed  to  the  system  of  the  church  that  it 
belongs  to." 

At  Leipsic  he  was  excited  by  the  great  bookstores.  He  went 
down  into  Auerbach's  cellar,  where  the  Faust  scene  was  laid. 
He  called  upon  the  German  professors  at  Halle,  and  found  them 
hospitable  and  interesting, — Erdmann,  professor  of  Hebrew; 
Hupfeld,  with  whom  he  took  a  long  walk;  and  Tholuck,  the 
friend  of  all  Americans,  with  whom  he  spent  an  evening,  talking 
of  theological  matters  in  Germany,  England,  and  America. 
What  interested  him  most  in  Germany  were  the  haunts  of 
Luther  and  Goethe.  He  lingered  over  "those  old  portraits  by 
Cranach,  who  seems  to  have  been  such  a  character,  who  at  any 
rate  knew  how  to  give  Luther  to  canvas  and  to  the  world."  He 
stood  before  the  monument 

"  in  the  dead  old  marketplace  at  "Wittenberg  with  the  noble  in- 
scription— Gamaliel's  skepticism  Christianized  into  Faith: — 

'  1st  's  Gottes  werk,  so  wird  's  bestehen; 
Ist's  Menschens  werk,  wird  's  untergehen.' 

And  then  his  tomb  under  the  pavement  of  the  old  Schloss  Kirche 
— on  whose  bronze  doors  the  theses  that  once  were  nailed  to 
them  in  paper  have  broken  forth  in  bronze — an  emblem,  as  it 
seemed,  of  the  work  they  did  among  men." 

He  came  to  Dresden,  and  with  high  expectations : 

That  room  was  more  like  a  church  than  anything  I  know  in 
Europe  where  the  Madonna  stands — to  all  pictures  henceforth 
what  the  Bible  is  to  all  books.  ...  I  will  not  say  anything 
about  it,  because  there  is  no  use  trying  to  tell  what  a  man  feels 
who  has  been  wanting  to  enjoy  something  for  fifteen  years,  and 
when  it  comes  finds  it  is  something  unspeakably  beyond  what  he 
had  dreamed." 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  195 

Then  came  Munich,  with  its  famous  galleries;  and  by  the  end 
of  October  he  was  in  Vienna,  where  he  hunted  up  the  grave  of 
Paracelsus,  and  visited  the  house  where  Mozart  was  born.  At 
Vienna  he  dined  with  Mr.  Motley,  the  author  of  the  Dutch  Re- 
public. As  he  contemplates  the  prospect  before  him,  he  writes 
to  his  mother: 

"  The  East,  and  Italy,  and  France,  and  much  of  England  and 
Switzerland — all  this  is  yet  in  store.  It  is  two  months  to-day 
since  I  sailed.  How  they  have  gone!  And  to  me  they  have 
been  the  fullest  months  of  my  life.  Not  a  day  without  some- 
thing that  I  have  longed  all  my  life  to  see.  So  it  will  go  on  till 
I  see  the  sight  that  I  shall  be  most  glad  of  all  to  see,  you  and 
Father  waiting  on  the  wharf  to  see  me  land,  as  you  came  down 
before  to  see  me  sail." 

All  along  the  way  he  wrote  of  the  changing  aspects  of  the 
scenery.  At  times  he  fell  into  verse  to  commemorate  the  deeper 
impressions.  He  surrendered  himself  to  his  moods.  He  chose 
to  believe  that  St.  John  was  buried  at  Ephesus,  according  to  the 
tradition,  and  welcomed  the  first  sight  of  the  ruins.  He  thought 
of  St.  Paul  "who  tried  to  go  in  to  the  people,"  in  the  vast  amphi- 
theatre. At  Messina  was  the  reminder  of  Tarsus,  behind  the 
hills,  where  St.  Paul  was  born.  Damascus  was  reached  on  the 
3d  of  December,  where  Scripture  incident  is  interwoven  with 
natural  scenery  and  human  monuments.  The  deeper  signifi- 
cance of  what  he  sees  springs  from  its  connection  with  the 
supernatural  revelation.  He  was  living  as  if  in  expectancy  of 
some  unearthly  light  which  should  dawn  on  this  visible  creation. 
He  was  anxious  to  keep  a  record  of  every  impression. 

He  notes  the  street  in  Damascus,  called  Straight,  where  Judas 
lived,  the  house  of  Judas,  the  wall  where  Paul  was  let  down  in  a 
basket,  the  house  of  Naaman  the  Syrian,  and  the  site  of  the 
House  of  Rimmon.  On  the  walled-up  doorway  of  a  Christian 
church,  transformed  into  a  mosque,  he  read  the  inscription, 
"Thy  Kingdom,  O  Christ,  is  an  everlasting  Kingdom,  and  Thy 
Dominion  endureth  from  generation  to  generation."  He  lunched 
on  a  spur  of  Mt.  Hermon,  drinking  the  water  of  the  river  Jordan. 
"This  is  the  first  spot,"  he  writes,  "that  we  have  touched  where 
Christ  Himself  has  been."  He  rode  "through  the  coasts  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,"  recalling  the  scene  of  Christ's  meeting  with 


i96  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  Syrophoenician  woman.  "What  city  is  like  to  Tyrus,  to 
the  destroyed  in  the  midst  of  the  sea!  "  He  remembered  Origen 
and  his  lonely  grave,  and  Frederick  Barbarossa,  and  the  place 
of  Sarepta,  where  Elijah  met  the  widow.  "Think  of  being  in 
the  dominions  of  that  old  Og,  king  of  Bashan,  whom  we  have 
always  read  of  in  the  Psalter."  "These  last  two  weeks  have 
been  like  a  curious  sort  of  dream;  all  the  old  Bible  story  has 
seemed  so  strangely  about  us."  In  the  plain  of  Acre,  "the 
very  sight  lets  you  understand"  how  Asher  "dipped  his  foot  in 
oil,  and  his  head  was  fat,  and  he  yielded  royal  dainties  " ;  the 
creeks  and  the  bays  recall  how  Asher  lingered,  and  Deborah 
reproached  him  with  "abiding  in  his  breaches."  He  comes  to 
Mt.  Carmel  and  to  the  swift-flowing  river,  "that  ancient  river, 
the  river  Kishon."  The  mountain  itself  is  what  it  was  in 
Elijah's  time,  wooded  to  the  top,  looking  out  on  beauty  and 
richness  everywhere: 

"What  a  place  for  a  prophet  and  what  a  scene  for  the  great 
trial  of  his  faith.  Below,  the  Kishon  runs  through  the  plain,  as 
if  still  telling  of  how  he  took  of  the  prophets  of  Baal  and  slew 
them  there.  We  sleep  under  the  shadow  of  Carmel.  I  am  very 
tired,  and  all  is  still,  except  the  jackal  screaming  in  the  distance. 
Good-night;  I  wish  I  were  going  to  bed  in  that  back  room  at 
home." 

As  he  came  to  Nazareth,  and  from  that  time  onward,  the 
thought  of  Jesus  took  possession  of  his  mind  and  soul: 

"It  was  a  strange  feeling  to  ride  down  through  it,  and  look  in 
the  people's  faces  and  think  how  Christ  must  have  been  about 
these  streets  just  like  these  children. 

"We  climbed  the  'hill  on  which  the  city  was  built,'  and  saw 
what  is  perhaps  the  finest  view  in  Palestine.  I  thought  all  the 
time  I  was  looking  at  it  how  often  Jesus  must  have  climbed  up 
here  and  enjoyed  it. 

"The  sight  that  His  eyes  saw  farthest  off  was  that  line  of  the 
Mediterranean  on  which  His  power  was  to  spread  to  the  ends  of 
the  world. 

"We  lunched  at  Cana  of  Galilee.  .  .  .  You  can  picture 
Jesus  and  His  mother  going  out  from  Nazareth  to  a  near  town  to 
attend  the  marriage  to  which  they  had  been  invited.  .  .  . 
We  rode  on  through  a  rolling  country  through  which  Jesus  must 
often  have  walked  on  his  way  back  and  forth  between  Nazareth 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  197 

and  the  lake.  The  whole  country,  every  hill  and  valley,  seemed 
marked  with  His  footprints.  .  .  .  The  Hill  of  the  Beatitudes; 
another  hill  where  they  say  Christ  fed  the  multitude. 

"Another  ridge  climbed,  and  there  was  the  'Sea  of  Galilee, 
which  is  the  Sea  of  Tiberias.'  There  it  lay  in  the  afternoon 
twilight,  blue  among  the  purple  hills.  There  were  the  walks  He 
walked,  the  shores  where  He  taught,  the  mountains  where  He 
prayed.  .  .  .  Looking  into  a  house  door  at  Nazareth  I  saw 
'two  women  grinding  together  at  the  mill.' 

"This  is  the  'land  of  Gennesaret.'  This  is  Capernaum,  the 
home  of  Christ  after  Nazareth  rejected  Him.  'And  thou 
Capernaum ! ' 

"This  is  Bethsaida,  the  city  of  John  and  James,  Peter  and 
Andrew. 

"I  have  had  a  very  pleasant,  quiet  Sunday  here  at  Nazareth 
[December  17,  1865J.  This  morning  I  went  to  the  Greek  church 
and  heard  their  usual  boisterous  and  disagreeable  service.  .  .  . 
All  day  the  people  have  gathered  round  to  look  at  us.  It  is 
touching  to  hear  the  poor  people  tell  of  how  they  suffered  from 
the  locusts  in  the  spring.  They  came  in  clouds,  covering  the 
ground  half  a  foot  deep,  as  large  as  sparrows;  all  the  shops  and 
nouses  were  closed  for  days.  Every  green  thing  was  eaten  up. 
It  sounded  like  a  chapter  out  of  Joel.  It  is  sad,  too,  to  hear 
them  talk  of  their  government.  All  spirit  is  gone  out  of  them, 
and  they  only  wait  the  inevitable  dropping  to  pieces  of  the  rotten 
thing,  which  they  all  expect." 

As  he  approached  Jerusalem,  Old  Testament  history  was  be- 
fore his  mind,  interwoven  with  the  life  of  Jesus.  No  incident 
in  the  narration  seemed  to  escape  him.  His  head  was  run- 
ning with  Bible  phrases.  He  read  the  Old  Testament  on  horse- 
back as  he  went  through  familiar  places.  And  so  he  came 
to  Jerusalem.  This  passage  from  his  journal  sums  up  his 
impression : 

'"Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead?  He  is  not  here; 
He  is  risen.'  As  concerns  Jesus,  I  know  nothing  which  could 
more  adjust  our  views  of  Him  than  a  visit  to  the  Holy  Land.  In 
fastening  the  New  Testament  story  in  its  place  by  geographical 
positions  it  rescues  it  from  vagueness  and  obscurity  and  makes 
the  Humanity  a  clear,  palpable  fact.  At  the  same  time,  by  the 
failure  of  present  enthusiasms  about  the  country,  by  the  way 
in  which  the  power  of  the  religion  has  outgrown  and  left  behind 
the  places  where  it  had  its  birth,  by  the  failure  of  the  material 
to  satisfy  and  account  for  and  accompany  the  spiritual,  it  sets 


198  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

us  free  for  a  larger  and  juster  grasping  of  the  true  Divinity.  It 
is  like  the  relation  between  an  immortal  word  and  the  mortal 
lips  that  uttered  it.  .  .  .  Probably  it  will  be  even  more  so 
at  Jerusalem.  It  seems  too  as  if  the  same  analogy  would  adjust 
and  state  what  I  hold  to  be  the  highest,  truest,  and  most  spiritual 
view  of  Inspiration,  but  have  never  been  able  to  put  exactly 
into  shape. 

"Of  all  the  associations  with  Christ,  I  found  most  pleasure  in 
Nazareth,  Jacob's  Well,  and  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The  first  as 
the  scene  of  His  developing  consciousness;  the  second  as  that  of 
His  highest  announcement  of  truth;  the  third  as  that  of  His 
completest  emotion  and  mental  suffering.  I  am  struck  by 
seeing  that  it  is  neither  of  them  as  the  scene  of  a  miracle. 

"Christ  is  not  merely  the  greatest,  but  the  only  presence 
that  fills  the  landscape  in  Palestine;  not  even  John  the  Baptist 
at  the  Jordan;  some  of  the  Old  Testament  persons  to  some 
extent,  but  Christ  only  in  the  New.  John,  Paul,  and  Peter  might 
have  lived  and  written  elsewhere  as  well  as  here.     .     .     . 

"  The  spirit  of  all  the  religions  of  the  East  seems  to  be  but  one, 
and  that  very  bad.  Its  simplicity  is  not  sincerity,  but  indifference 
and  stupidity.  '  God  is  great '  is  their  only  creed  because  they 
dare  not  take  the  trouble  to  trace  out  that  greatness  of  God  into 
its  due  connections  with  their  own  lives  and  duties.  Then  again, 
the  secularism  of  their  religion  seems  to  be  shown  in  the  way  in 
which  they  divide  themselves  and  quarrel  by  religious,  which  in 
this  case  amounts  to  the  same  thing  as  political,  names.  It  bears 
a  sad  analogy  to  the  earlier  and  worse  periods  of  the  Christian 
church,  its  fifth  and  sixth,  and  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries, 
when  men  used  for  political  landmarks  and  rallying  cries  the 
sacred  words  which,  whether  we  make  them  holier  or  not,  we 
have  at  least  the  sense  and  shame  to  keep  in  their  true  place  in 
the  region  of  thought  and  opinion." 

After  two  weeks  in  Jerusalem,  he  turned  westward.  He 
was  anxious  to  get  to  Italy.  For  Egypt  he  did  not  greatly  care 
but  remained  there  long  enough  to  visit  the  Pyramids  and  medi- 
tate beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Sphinx: 

"The  Sphinx  wonder  impressed  me  more  than  anything  else  I 
have  seen.  .  .  .  Her  calm  still  face,  not  stern  and  not  gentle, 
only  self-centred,  as  if  she  were  too  vast  either  to  hate  or  love 
the  men  who  worshipped  her.  The  harmony  of  repose  between 
the  features  and  the  form — the  great  divine  pitiless  Rest  of  the 
whole,  as  if  neither  human  sin  could  rouse  her  to  anger,  nor 
human  goodness  tempt  a  smile — how  wonderful  she  is.  The  way 
in  which  the   Egyptian  features  have  been  made  capable  of 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  199 

grand  idealization  in  the  face  of  the  Sphinx  is  very  fine  .  .  . 
the  grandeur  that  always  seems  to  belong  to  colossal  repre- 
sentations of  the  human  face.  ...  I  think  there  might  be 
a  comparison  drawn  between  the  Sphinx  and  the  Dresden 
Madonna,  as  the  highest  art  expressions  of  the  two  great  religions, 
the  East  and  the  West, — Fatalism  and  Providence,  for  that  they 
seem  to  mean.  Both  have  recognized  the  feminine  nature  of 
the  religious  instinct,  for  each  is  a  woman.  Both  have  tried  to 
express  a  union  of  humanity  with  something  its  superior,  but 
one  has  joined  it  only  to  the  superior  strength  of  the  animal,  the 
other  has  infused  it  with  the  superior  spirituality  of  a  divine 
nature.  One  unites  wisdom  and  power,  and  claims  man's 
homage  for  that,  the  other  unites  wisdom  and  love,  and  says, 
'Worship  this.'  The  Sphinx  has  life  in  her  human  face  written 
into  a  riddle,  a  puzzle,  a  mocking  bewilderment.  The  Virgin's 
face  is  full  of  a  mystery  we  cannot  fathom,  but  it  unfolds  to  us 
a  thousand  of  the  mysteries  of  life.  It  does  not  mock,  but  bless 
us.  The  Egyptian  woman  is  alone  amid  her  sands — to  be 
worshipped,  not  loved.  The  Christian  woman  has  her  child 
clasped  in  her  arms,  enters  into  the  companies  and  sympathies 
of  men,  and  claims  no  worship  except  love.  And  so  on  through 
many  points." 

On  February  4,  1866,  he  reached  Rome — "  Rome  at  last,  the 
place  of  all  others  in  Europe  that  I  have  most  wished  to 
reach.  It  is  exactly  as  I  have  always  pictured  it,  only  a  great 
deal  more  interesting."  In  one  of  his  letters  he  says,  speaking 
of  Rome: 

"It  was  an  unceasing  and  infinite  delight.  Rome  is  so  much 
greater  and  fuller  than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of.  I  have  seen  a 
great  deal,  but  when  I  think  what  there  is  right  about  me,  it 
seems  as  if  I  had  seen  nothing.  I  have  wandered  all  through  St. 
Peter's;  spent  a  long  day  in  the  wilderness  of  the  Vatican; 
another  in  the  great  museums  of  the  Capitol;  and  followed  the 
banks  of  the  Tiber;  skirted  the  ruins  of  the  old  temples,  palaces, 
and  theatres  of  this  wonderful  race ;  roamed  through  some  of  the 
picture  galleries  of  the  great  palaces ;  found  my  way  into  a  few  of 
the  numberless  gorgeous  churches ;  and  to-day  have  been  from  one 
to  another  of  the  studios  of  our  own  living  artists.  To  a  Protest- 
ant the  Coliseum,  like  St.  Peter's,  is  too  vast  and  great  for 
Roman  sectarianism  to  keep.  They  both  are  among  the  great 
religious  temples  of  the  race,  where  all  humanity  may  worship 
and  confess  in  the  presence  of  all  that  recalls  the  exhibitions  of 
mankind's  highest  and  lowest  natures. 

"One  morning  I  climbed  to  the  roof  and  galleries  and  dome  of 


2oo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

St.  Peter's.  More  than  ever  I  seemed  to  pass  beyond  the  nar- 
rowness of  the  sectarianism  of  the  place,  and  feel  as  if  it  were 
indeed  what  one  loves  to  dream  it  might  be,  truly  Catholic,  the 
great  religious  home  of  humanity,  where  every  good  impulse, 
every  true  charity,  every  deep  faith,  every  worship,  and  every 
benevolence  should  find  a  representation, — the  great  harmony  of 
all  the  discords  of  well-meaning  and  conflicting  religious  edu- 
cations and  progresses.  In  spite  of  its  positive  character,  its 
very  immensity  makes  it  answer  vaguely  some  such  purpose  even 
now  to  those  who  go  there." 

He  was  too  short  a  time  in  Rome  to  do  more  than  the  most 
condensed  sightseeing,  but  it  is  significant  that  most  of  his  com- 
ment in  his  journal  is  on  its  art,  of  which  "it  is  hopeless,"  he 
says,  "  to  write  one's  impressions";  but  at  least  he  stood  before 
the  great  masterpieces  in  wonder  and  admiration.  Twice  he 
preached  before  the  American  Embassy,  and  on  the  2 2d  of 
February  he  made  an  address,  which  by  its  language,  thought, 
and  rushing  eloquence  "completely  enchained  every  hearer." 

Six  months  still  remained  to  him  after  leaving  Rome  before 
his  year  of  absence  should  expire.  Greece  was  next  to  be 
visited.  He  had  been  so  eager  to  get  into  Italy  that  he  had 
passed  by  Athens  as  if  it  occupied  a  secondary  place  in  his 
affections.  Yet  of  his  first  day  in  Athens  he  writes,  "It  was 
one  of  the  most  memorable  of  all  my  journey,"  and  again  he 
writes,  "  Greece  has  been  perhaps  on  the  whole  the  best  and  most 
picturesque  success  of  all  my  journey."  His  visit  there  revived 
his  youthful  classic  fervor  with  the  result  that  he  wrote  a  long 
letter  to  his  brother  Arthur,  then  a  senior  at  Harvard,  giving 
him  an  itinerary  of  his  tour: 

"Thursday  morning,  March  the  1st,  we  landed  at  the  Piraeus, 
and  took  a  rickety  hack  up  the  dusty  road  between  the  almost- 
gone  Long  Walls  to  Athens.  As  soon  as  we  were  out  of  the  town 
(Piraeus),  the  Acropolis  and  Lycabettus  and  Pentelicus  were  all 
in  sight.  That  day  and  the  three  next  we  spent  in  the  City,  with 
one  day's  ride  out  over  the  Sacred  Road  to  Eleusis,  and  another's 
walk  to  Colonus  and  the  Groves  of  the  Academy  and  along  the 
Cephissus.  I  remember  perhaps  most  of  all  one  afternoon  in  the 
newly  excavated  Dionisiac  Theatre  just  under  the  south  wall  of 
the  Acropolis.  Beyond  the  orchestra  the  narrow  stage,  supported 
by  the  line  of  exquisite  sculptures,  mostly  broken  and  headless, 
but  very  beautiful,  stands  just  as  when  'Euripides'  and  '^Eschy- 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  201 

lus '  were  performed  on  it  for  the  first  time.  The  Clergy  had  front 
seats  at  the  Theatre  in  those  days.  I  sat  down  in  the  chair  'lepevg 
Jwg  }  OXv/u7tzov,  and  imagined  myself  the  old  Reverend  who 
used  to  occupy  it.  My  brother  of  Dionysus  sat  on  one  side,  and 
his  Reverence  of  Hermes  on  the  other.  In  front  was  Hymettus 
with  its  deep  purple  mass,  where  one  almost  heard  the  humming 
of  the  bees  in  the  still  sunny  air.  I  sat  there  till  they  got  through 
one  or  two  plays  of  the  Trilogy,  and  then  got  up  and  went  through 
the  Propylasa,  past  the  Erechtheum,  with  its  beautiful  Portico 
of  the  Caryatides,  and  saw  the  sun  set  from  the  West  Porch  of 
the  Parthenon.  Another  day  to  the  Theseum,  the  most  perfect 
of  ancient  temples,  which  stands  at  a  much  lower  level  than  the 
Acropolis,  and  is  seen  very  finely  as  you  lie  on  your  back  lazily 
on  the  Areopagus  just  over  the  cavern  where  the  Eumenides  had 
their  temple,  and  just  over  against  the  rocky  platform  at  the  head 
of  the  steps  leading  up  from  the  old  Agora  where  Paul  made  his 
great  speech  about  the  temples,  with  the  Parthenon  before  him 
for  a  text.  You  cross  the  Agora  from  the  Areopagus,  and  by  a 
splendid  old  Pelasgic  wall  climb  up  to  the  Pnyx,  and  cross  it  to 
the  Bema,  which  stands  almost  as  perfect  as  when  Demosthenes 
was  there,  and  must  have  been  a  splendid  place  to  speak  from  to 
a  great  crowd.  Last  Sunday  I  preached  twice  for  Dr.  Hill  in 
the  Church  of  St.  Paul.  The  doctor  is  a  noble  man,  and  has  done 
more  for  Greece  than  all  its  poor  politicians  of  the  last  twenty 
years  put  together. 

"Sunday  evening  we  drove  down  to  the  Piraeus,  and  very  early 
the  next  morning  went  on  board  a  Greek  steamer  and  sailed  for 
Nauplia.  We  passed  out  by  the  tomb  of  Themistocles,  sailed 
by  Salamis,  and  kept  along  close  to  ^Egina,  the  most  beautiful  of 
islands.  The  classic  fleas  fed  on  us  through  the  dewy  night.  In 
the  morning  we  started  up  the  Argolid,  some  more  strange  coun- 
tries for  to  see.  We  came  in  half  an  hour  to  Tiryns,  and  did  full 
justice  to  its  vast  Cyclopean  walls  and  strange  arched  galleries, 
which  are  so  old  that  it  don't  make  any  difference  how  old  you 
call  them.  A  thousand  years  or  two  can't  make  much  difference 
away  back  there.  Then  on,  across  the  grassy  plain  of  horse- 
feeding  Argos,  where  horses  were  certainly  feeding  in  plenty  as 
we  passed  to  Argos  itself,  with  its  old  citadel  Larissa,  crowned 
now  by  a  Roman  or  Venetian  citadel.  The  only  remains  are  an 
old  theatre  cut  out  mostly  in  the  solid  rock  of  the  hillside, — a 
grand  old  ruin.  We  kept  on  across  the  plain  two  hours  further  to 
Mycenae,  perched  between  its  twin  hills.  A  grand,  great  citadel 
with  its  Gate  of  Lions  and  subterranean  Treasuries  of  Agamem- 
non. It  was  hard  to  realize  that  we  were  really  right  in  the  midst 
of  the  scene  where  that  pleasant  little  family  circle  of  the  Atreuses 
used  to  carry  on  such  remarkable  proceedings.  From  Mycenae 
we  rode  up  a  long  dark  rock  glen,  delightfully  Greek  and  wild, — 


202  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

a  splendid  place  for  brigands  (I  forgot  to  say  we  took  a 
guard  of  five  Greek  horsemen  at  Argos  to  defend  us  from  the 
bloodthirsty), — and  came  out  about  dusk  into  a  green  plain,  some 
three  miles  long,  with  three  Doric  columns,  looking  infinitely  old, 
standing  towards  one  end,  among  the  ruins  of  a  temple.  This  is 
the  place  of  the  old  Nemaean  games.  The  lions'  cave  is  still 
shown  in  a  mountain  top  overlooking  the  plain.  A  little  after 
dark  we  came  to  Cleonae,  a  wayside  station,  where  we  spent  the 
night.  The  landlord  was  a  jolly  Argive,  named  Agamemnon. 
Clytemnestra  was  running  about  with  hair  down  her  back  and 
shoes  down  at  the  heel.  Fortunately  we  had  our  own  cook  and 
provisions,  and  so  fared  pretty  well.  Greek  cookery  is  villainous. 
Early  the  next  morning  we  were  off,  and  two  hours'  ride  over  gray 
hills  brought  us  to  the  sight  of  the  blue  Gulf  of  Corinth,  the  bluest 
waters  I  ever  saw.  The  only  ruins  of  Corinth  are  seven  old  Doric 
columns  of  the  Temple  of  Athena,  very  striking  and  terribly  old. 
but  I  climbed  up  the  Aero  Corinthus,  the  splendid  citadel,  and 
saw  one  of  the  views  that  you  don't  get  often  in  a  lifetime.  Be- 
low, the  old  town  and  its  columns;  then  the  isthmus,  with  its  two 
blue  gulfs;  to  the  right  Megara,  Salamis,  and  Attica  beyond,  with 
Hymettus  hazy  against  the  sky.  To  the  left  the  plain  of  Sicyon 
and  the  town  itself,  with  Mt.  Cyllene  stretching  away  behind. 
In  front  a  long  line  of  hills,  many  of  them  snowy,  to  which  belong 
the  names  Cithasron,  Helicon,  Parnassus.  Just  up  that  hollow 
to  the  northwest  is  Delphi.  Behind  us  are  the  gray  hills  of  Argo- 
lis  over  which  we  have  come.  Is  n't  that  something  of  a  view? 
I  drank  at  Pyrene,  where  Pegasus  struck  water,  and  then  we  set 
out  across  the  isthmus,  passing  in  sight  of  Cenchrea  where  Paul 
landed,  and  close  by  the  ruins  of  a  vast  temple  of  Poseidon,  where 
the  Isthmian  sanctuary  was.  And  this  is  my  story  about  Greece. 
"Are  you  very  tired  of  all  this?  Well,  some  day  you  will  come 
here  yourself,  and  then  you  will  understand  how  anybody  here 
gets  carried  away  with  this  delicious  country,  and  gets  garrulous 
and  persuades  himself  that  other  people  will  be  as  glad  to  listen 
as  he  will  be  to  talk  about  it.  It  stands  out  as  very  different 
from  all  the  rest  of  my  trip,  and  one  of  its  most  complete  suc- 
cesses. Anybody  who  comes  to  Europe  and  not  to  Greece  is  a 
very  much  Donkey — tell  him  so  when  you  see  him." 

From  Greece  he  returned  to  Rome,  to  spend  an  additional 
month.  It  was  hard  to  tear  himself  away.  In  pure  enjoyment 
the  time  spent  in  Rome  surpassed  all  else  in  his  tour.  He  culti- 
vated the  artists  in  their  studios,  and  was  the  recipient  of  social 
attention  from  the  American  colony.  The  itinerary  of  his  route 
after  he  should  leave  Rome  promised  him  much  that  appeared  as 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  203 

most  rich  to  his  imagination.     He  was  not  tired,  nor  had  he  ex- 
hausted his  capacity  for  new  impressions. 

"I  shall  leave  [he  writes]  and  go  by  way  of  Foligno  and  Perugia 
to  Florence;  then  to  Bologna,  Parma,  Modena,  Ferrara,  Padua, 
and  Venice;  then  to  Verona,  Milan,  the  Italian  lakes,  Turin. 
Genoa,  Nice,  Marseilles,  Lyons,  and  Paris.  Does  n't  that  sound 
good?  I  am  depending  much  on  Florence  and  Venice,  and  in- 
deed all  the  route  is  very  rich." 

At  Paris,  he  met  his  friend  George  Strong,  a  classmate  in  the 
Virginia  Seminary,  and  together  they  went  to  England.  There 
they  were  joined  by  Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter,  who  had  just  become 
the  assistant  minister  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston.  From  Eng- 
land he  went  to  Switzerland,  to  spend  the  summer,  of  which 
the  story  may  be  read  in  his  Letters  of  Travel.  He  sailed  for 
home  on  the   15th  of  September. 

While  Mr.  Brooks  was  abroad  classical  associations  seemed 
almost  as  important  as  those  of  religion.  But  from  this  time 
they  pass  more  into  the  background  and  the  Evangelical  narra- 
tive comes  into  the  foreground  as  the  unifying  force  of  his  life. 
Such  indeed  it  had  hitherto  been,  but  henceforth  with  a  new 
emphasis.  It  was  not  till  later  that  the  Christmas  carol,  "O 
little  town  of  Bethlehem,"  was  first  printed,  but  it  had  been 
singing  in  the  soul  of  Phillips  Brooks  since  he  was  in  Palestine. 
It  is  beautiful  in  itself.but  it  has  also  a  theological  significance, 
— the  adjustment  between  the  natural  order  and  the  divine 
revelation. 

"  O  little  town  of  Bethlehem! 

How  still  we  see  thee  lie; 
Above  thy  deep  and  dreamless  sleep 

The  silent  stars  go  by; 
Yet  in  thy  dark  streets  shineth 

The  everlasting  light; 
The  hopes  and  fears  of  all  the  years 

Are  met  in  thee  to-night. 

How  silently,  how  silently, 

The  wondrous  gift  is  given! 
So  God  imparts  to  human  hearts 

The  blessings  of  His  heaven. 


2o4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

No  ear  may  hear  His  coming, 

But  in  this  world  of  sin, 
Where  meek  souls  will  receive  Him  still, 

The  dear  Christ  enters  in." 

The  Old  World  had  taken  such  deep  hold  of  Mr.  Brooks  that  it 
was  like  the  process  of  taking  root  again  to  begin  his  work  in 
Philadelphia.  "The  church  looks  very  much  as  usual,"  he 
writes,  "and  the  usual  vista  of  sermons,  studies,  committee  meet- 
ings, and  Freedmen's  Societies  is  opening  before  me.  It  is  rather 
pleasant  to  feel  myself  at  work  again."  But  he  adds,  "I  am 
drearily  homesick  for  the  Old  World  sometimes.  I  know  it 
would  n't  be  good  for  me  to  go  again,  and  so  I  try  to  be  as 
brave  as  I  can  and  pat  myself  on  the  back  and  call  myself 
contented." 

In  the  political  world  the  method  of  reconstruction  in  the 
South  was  the  issue.  Mr.  Brooks  had  faith  in  Charles  Sumner  as 
a  leader,  sharing  the  common  feeling  that  the  accession  of  Presi- 
dent Johnson  was  a  misfortune.  He  feared  that  Congress  might 
lose  its  temper:  "It  is  bad  to  see  spitefulness  when  there  ought 
to  be  wisdom."  A  meeting  was  held  in  November,  in  behalf  of 
the  freedmen,  where  Chief  Justice  Chase  presided.  Again  Mr. 
Brooks  exerted  his  power  in  an  eloquent  appeal,  advocating  the 
education  of  the  negro  to  qualify  him  for  a  voter.  "To  many," 
he  said,  "it  might  seem  like  radicalism,  but  Christianity  is  the 
radicalism  of  the  world.  The  best  way  then  is  to  teach  pure 
unadulterated  radicalism,  for  this  is  the  only  conservatism." 
On  Thanksgiving  Day,  the  29th  of  November,  he  preached  from 
the  text  Isaiah  xxvi.  15:  "Thou  hast  increased  the  nation,  O 
Lord" ;  and  his  subject  was  the  result  of  the  war  in  producing  a 
new  sense  of  the  significance  of  nationality: 

"Americans  have  now  a  self-consciousness  of  nationality. 
Irresponsibility  and  irresolution  have  been  left  to  the  history 
of  our  earlier  days,  and  the  nation  has  attained  its  manhood. 
Foreign  countries  had  not  a  true  sense  of  our  greatness,  and  yet 
they  had  gained  some  glimpse  of  it  in  their  appreciation  of  our 
great  representative,  the  lamented  Lincoln.  In  our  progress 
in  free  ideas,  in  wealth  and  size  and  extent,  we  have  gone  forward 
with  gigantic  strides.  We  have  now  the  grandest  and  noblest 
nation  on  earth." 

There  were  demands  and  appeals  to  be  met  besides  those  of  the 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         205 

freedmen.  The  South,  desolated  by  war,  was  threatened  by 
famine.  The  Mayor  of  Philadelphia  called  together  its  promi- 
nent citizens,  to  consider  the  situation,  and  Phillips  Brooks  was 
the  spokesman.  He  said  that  at  such  a  time  no  questions  should 
be  asked.  What  we  have  to  do  is  to  look  upon  the  end  of  the 
war  as  accomplished,  and  to  treat  the  people  of  the  South  as 
though  never  estranged  from  us.  We  must  alleviate  the  sufferings 
there,  and  open  the  way  to  happiness,  and  remove  as  far  as  possi- 
ble the  ravages  which  have  taken  place.  New  York  has  done 
much,  but  Philadelphia  must  outstrip  her  in  gathering  contribu- 
tions and  all  manner  of  supplies.  This  will  be  the  surest  means 
of  reconstruction, — the  right  sympathy  of  hearts. 

"A  month  after  the  proclamation  of  peace  [writes  Bishop  Ran- 
dolph] I  received  a  letter  from  him,  inquiring  of  myself,  my 
family,  and  many  of  our  mutual  friends,  and  telling  me  to  sit 
down  forthwith  and  write  to  him,  and  give  him  the  privilege  of 
helping  poor  churches  that  had  been  crippled  by  the  war  and 
ministers  who  were  suffering  the  privations  of  poverty.  After 
spending  seventeen  years  in  the  city  of  Baltimore  I  returned  to 
Virginia  thirteen  years  ago  as  the  Assistant  Bishop  of  the  Diocese, 
and  my  duties  brought  me  into  contact  with  the  people  and 
churches  of  Virginia,  and  it  touched  me  to  find  that  many  of 
them  had  received  contributions  of  money  and  letters  of  sympathy 
and  encouragement  from  him." 

In  December,  1866,  steps  were  taken  toward  the  comple- 
tion of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  by  the  erection  of  a 
church  tower.  Mr.  Brooks  had  been  deputed  by  the  vestry  to 
consult  with  architects,  and  determine  a  plan.  But  a  difference 
of  opinion  developed  between  him  and  the  vestry,  whether  there 
should  be  a  massive  tower  only,  or  a  tower  surmounted  by  a 
spire.  His  own  preference  was  for  the  tower  without  the  spire. 
That  he  was  clear  in  his  own  mind  as  to  what  he  wanted  is  evi- 
dent from  a  reference  to  the  subject,  in  a  letter:  "I  have  just 
broken  my  head  against  my  vestry  in  an  attempt  to  put  a  tower 
harmonious  and  solid  on  my  church.  I  have  failed.  It  is  to  be 
a  spire,  taller  than  anything  in  town,  not  bad  and  not  good." 
In  the  end,  however,  he  was  allowed  to  have  his  way,  and  the 
lofty  tower  of  Holy  Trinity,  in  Philadelphia,  remains  a  monument 
to  his  preference  in  church  architecture. 


2o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

In  the  spring  of  1867,  he  received  an  invitation  to  become  the 
head  of  the  new  Episcopal  Theological  School  in  Cambridge, 
and  to  be  responsible  for  its  organization  and  the  selection 
of  its  teachers.  The  founder  of  the  school,  Benjamin  Tyler 
Reed,  knew  him  well;  and  had  frequently  entertained  him  at 
Lynn,  his  summer  home,  where  for  several  successive  summers 
Mr.  Brooks  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  preach.  Had  not  the 
call  come  so  soon  after  the  trial  he  had  gone  through  in  con- 
nection with  the  Divinity  School  in  Philadelphia  he  might 
have  given  the  subject  greater  consideration  than  he  appears 
to  have  done.  But  at  this  moment,  also,  the  tie  which  bound 
him  to  Philadelphia  was  stronger  than  ever.  From  allusions 
in  his  letters,  it  would  seem  that  he  was  contemplating  marriage 
at  an  early  moment.     To  his  father  he  writes: 

"April  17,  1867.  I  have  known  pretty  well  how  things  went 
on  with  you  at  home.  The  principal  events  of  the  winter  have 
been  the  visits  from  home,  especially  those  of  William,  who  is 
going  to  be  married  very  soon.  So  runs  the  story  here.  I  may 
have  the  privilege  of  welcoming  you  all  to  the  Holy  Trinity.  Of 
course  you  will  all  come  on,  from  Aunt  Susan  down  to  Johnnie, 
and  we  '11  charter  a  car  from  my  house  up  Walnut  Street  to  the 
church. 

"I  rejoice  with  you  all  in  Johnnie's  confirmation  last  week. 
Now  all  the  boys  are  in  the  Church,  and  I  hope  none  of  them  will 
do  her  any  dishonor. 

"I  am  glad  you  approve  of  my  decision  about  Cambridge.  I 
am  sure  it  is  all  right,  although  there  are  some  things  about  the 
invitation  there  which  tempted  me  very  much.  I  hope  the  new 
school  will  be  well  manned  and  start  vigorously.  I  do  not  feel 
that  I  could  leave  here  for  anything  now." 

To  his  friend  Dr.  Richards  he  writes : 

"June  28,  1867.  I  have  just  got  back  from  Boston.  Arthur, 
one  of  those  boys  who  must  be  all  a  hazy  lump  to  you,  is  just 
graduating,  and  I  am  proud  of  him  because  he  is  third  scholar  in 
a  class  of  some  hundred,  and  so  I  went  on  to  his  Class  Day.  It 
was  perfect,  Cambridge,  with  its  elms  and  grass  all  washed  and 
fresh,  and  splendid  music  and  luxuriant  hospitality,  and  no  end 
of  bright,  pretty  faces.  Do  you  know  I  think  I  am  getting  more 
and  more  susceptible  as  I  grow  older.  Did  you?  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  it  came  to  matrimony  pretty  soon." 

The  summer  of   1867  was  spent  at  Mount  Desert,  but  no 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         207 

record  of  it  has  been  kept.  In  one  of  his  letters  he  refers  to  it  as 
very  crowded,  and  very  pleasant,  and  a  hard  place  to  write  let- 
ters. As  he  was  beginning  in  the  fall  a  new  year  of  work  in  Phil- 
adelphia, his  two  youngest  brothers  were  leaving  home.  Arthur 
went  to  Andover  Theological  Seminary  to  begin  his  preparation 
for  the  ministry,  and  John  entered  Harvard  College.  Frederick 
Brooks  had  been  ordained  and  had  accepted  a  call  to  St.  Paul's 
Church,  Cleveland,  Ohio.  His  mother  writes  him:  "Nearly  all 
my  children  have  left  me,  and  as  I  sit  alone,  I  feel  lonely.  .  .  . 
There  is  but  one  fault  in  your  letter.  You  do  not  tell  whether 
you  are  going  to  preach  the  Foreign  Missions  sermon.  Do,  and 
plead  strongly  the  Lord's  cause  for  the  heathen." 

He  still  continued,  but  now  only  at  rare  intervals,  to  record 
his  thoughts  in  the  note-book.  A  few  extracts  are  given  which 
belong  to  this  time: 

"The  shading  of  character  into  character  we  learn  by  and  by, 
and  it  is  a  very  confusing  lesson.  I  can  remember  well  enough 
how  as  a  child  I  used  to  feel  as  if  misers  and  Sabbath-breakers 
and  infidels  were  kinds  of  professions  or  castes,  which  you  would 
recognize  any  moment  when  you  saw  them,  by  their  very  look. 
The  first  time  I  had  an  infidel  pointed  out  to  me  was  a  wonder. 
I  looked  in  vain  for  his  badges.  Only  by  and  by  you  find  the 
misers  and  the  infidels  everywhere,  nay,  even  in  yourself." 

"Any  one  who  travels  much  and  sees  the  past  and  the  present 
of  the  world  on  a  large  scale  comes,  I  think,  necessarily  to  attrib- 
ute a  wider  and  more  solid  power  to  sentiments  and  feelings,  to 
affections,  superstitions,  and  antipathies  in  human  history, — 
things  that  seem  shadowy  and  unreal, — than  he  was  used  to 
do?  What  have  they  done?  Nay,  rather,  what  have  they  not 
done?" 


"The  Mohammedans  have  the  golden  gate  into  the  Mosque  of 
Omar  heavily  walled  up.  There  is  a  tradition  that  if  ever  they 
are  driven  out  of  possession  it  will  be  by  the  Jews  or  Christians 
entering  by  that  gate.  Like  this  is  the  way  in  which  many  Chris- 
tians, feeling  that  attacks  upon  religion  are  likeliest  to  come  upon 
the  side  of  reason,  instead  of  simply  arming  themselves  on  that 
side  and  keeping  watch  that  the  gateway  be  used  only  for  its 
proper  passers,  wall  it  up  altogether  and  refuse  to  reason  at  all 
about  their  faith." 


2o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  In  the  order  of  nature  belief  always  precedes  knowledge.  It 
is  the  condition  of  instruction." 

"The  strength  of  our  persuasions  is  no  evidence  at  all  of  their 
rectitude.  Crooked  things  may  be  stiff  and  inflexible  as  well 
as  straight ;  and  men  may  be  as  positive  and  peremptory  in  error 
as  in  truth.  (Locke's  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  ii., 
p.  279.)" 

"Some  men's  faith  only  makes  itself  visible;  other  men's  light- 
ens everything  within  its  reach.  Yet  this  is  not  always  a  dif- 
ference in  the  qualities  of  the  two  faiths,  but  may  be  owing  to 
the  conditions  of  the  atmosphere." 

"Cicero  writes  to  his  brother  Quintus  of  the  prosecution  of  the 
Consuls  (b.c.  52):  'Aut  hominum  aut  legum  interitus  ostendi- 
tur.'  Cf.  this  as  a  statement  of  one  aspect  of  the  Atonement. 
Judex  damnatur  cum  nocens  absolvitor." 

"The  great  fact  of  the  world,  the  phenomenon  that  is  to  be 
measured;  the  responsibility  that  is  to  be  enjoined,  is  Tendency." 

"The  Jesuit  ordering  pictures  from  France  to  use  in  the  Huron 
Mission  wants  many  souls  in  perdition  (dmes  damnees)  in  various 
styles;  of  souls  in  bliss  (dmes  bienheureuses)  he  thinks  that  one 
will  be  enough.     (Parkman's  Jesuits  in  North  America,  p.  133.)" 

"A  curious  argument  of  the  Indians,  who  believed  in  the  truth 
as  powerful,  but  drew  the  inference,  not  that  they  had  better 
submit  to  it,  but  that  it  would  be  better  for  them  not  to  hear  it. 
(Parkman,  lb.,  p.  135.)" 


" '  You  do  good  to  your  friends,'  said  Le  Jeune  to  an  Algonquin 
chief,  'and  you  burn  your  enemies.     God  does  the  same. 


>  i» 


"  It  is  a  strange  thing  to  say,  but  when  the  number  of  any  pub- 
lic body  exceeds  that  of  forty  or  fifty,  the  whole  assembly  has  an 
element  of  joyous  childhood  in  it,  and  each  member  revives  at 
times  the  glad  mischievous  nature  of  his  schoolboy  days." 

"There  are  some  diseases  for  which  Lacordaire  says  (he  is 
speaking  of  morbid  solitude)  there  are  but  two  remedies,  Death 
and  God. 

"  That  nameless  gift  which  misfortune  adds  to  the  greatest 
virtues .     (Bossuet.) ' ' 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         209 

"The  way  in  which  the  old  army  overcoats  are  still  seen  about, 
worn  in  ignominious  work,  long  after  the  war  is  over." 

"He  cannot  force  his  way  in,  and  so  indulges  himself  with 
merely  banging  at  the  door." 

'"If  one's  shoes  were  always  being  mended,  when  could  they  be 
worn?'     (Masson's  Milton,  ii.,  p.  276.)" 

'*'  Diogenes  the  Cynic  was  a  wise  man  for  despising  them,  but  a 
fool   for  showing  it.'     (Lord   Chesterfield's  Letters,   p.    74.)" 

'"It  has  been  well  observed  that  men's  real  qualities  are  very 
apt  to  rise  or  fall  to  the  level  of  their  reputation.'  (Lord 
Nugent's  Memorials  of  Hampden,  p.  179.)" 

He  was  interested  in  the  Sibylline  Oracles,  heathen  and 
Christian,  and  his  note-book  gives  indications  of  a  plan  for 
more  thorough  study.  Niebuhr's  History  of  Rome  was  his 
guide,  but  he  was  led  to  dip  into  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus, 
Pausanius,  Varro,  Livy,  Josephus,  Augustine  [De  Civitate  Dei], 
Lactantius,  and  Celsus.  That  he  should  have  attempted  it 
shows  something  of  the  working  of  his  mind,  and  where  his 
interest  lay. 

An  incident  occurred  in  connection  with  the  Pan-Anglican 
Synod,  whose  first  meeting  was  in  1867,  which  stirred  Phillips 
Brooks  with  indignation.  As  he  watched  the  proceedings  in 
London  he  wrote:  "The  great  English  bishop-show  seems  to  be 
doing  nothing  laboriously.  Pan-Anglicans  are  poor  things  nowa- 
days. My  modest  impression  is  that  the  strength  of  the  Church 
is  in  the  lower  orders  of  the  clergy,  backed,  of  course,  by  a  large- 
minded  laity."  One  most  prominent  result  of  the  conference 
was  the  condemnation  of  Bishop  Colenso,  for  his  teaching  in 
regard  to  the  Old  Testament,  an  act  which  seemed  to  Dean  Stan- 
ley and  others  to  be  fraught  with  danger  to  the  cause  of  free 
inquiry  in  theology,  as  well  as  a  violation  of  the  best  traditions 
of  the  Church  of  England.  For  these  reasons  he  refused  the 
request  of  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the  bishop  of 
London  to  use  the  Abbey  in  the  closing  service  of  the  Synod; 
but,  not  to  be  discourteous,  he  offered  it  for  some  service  of 
a  general  character,  which  should  have  no  relation  to  the  Pan- 
Anglican  meeting.  When  this  offer  was  in  turn  refused,  the 
14 


2io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Dean  wrote  to  Dr.  Hopkins,  the  presiding  bishop  of  the  American 
Episcopal  Church,  explaining  the  circumstances,  and  expressing 
his  desire  to  show  welcome  to  Americans.  Bishop  Hopkins  in 
his  reply  took  the  opportunity  to  administer  a  reprimand  to  the 
dean  of  Westminster  for  having  disobeyed  the  divine  law  of  the 
Church  in  refusing  the  request  of  the  bishops  for  the  use  of  the 
Abbey.  To  those  who  knew  the  usages  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  history  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
Bishop  Hopkins  was  making  a  display  of  his  ignorance;  for  it 
was  the  prerogative  of  the  dean  of  Westminster  that  he  owed  no 
canonical  obedience  to  any  bishop.  The  letter  of  Bishop  Hop- 
kins was  published  in  the  American  church  papers.  When 
Phillips  Brook  read  it  he  wrote  this  letter  to  the  dean  of  West- 
minster : 

"  Philadelphia,  November  29,  1867. 

"I  have  just  happened  to  see  in  the  Church  Journal  of  New 
York  a  letter  from  you  to  Bishop  Hopkins,  our  presiding  Bishop, 
with  his  reply,  and  I  am  so  mortified  and  indignant  at  the  impu- 
dence and  ill-feeling  of  the  Bishop's  letter  that,  whatever  may  be 
the  liberty  I  take  in  doing  so,  I  cannot  help  sitting  down  at  once 
and  disowning — as  I  am  sure  I  may  do  for  our  whole  Church — 
the  spirit  and  substance  of  his  melancholy  letter.  It  is  a  little 
matter  to  you,  but  much  to  us.  I,  for  one,  am  not  willing  that 
my  Church  should  be  so  misrepresented.  I  am  not  willing  that 
you  should  for  a  moment  think  that  it  is  the  Church  which  does 
what  the  Bishop  of  Vermont  has  done — answer  the  kind  courtesy 
of  your  note  to  him  by  personal  insult  and  impertinent  criticisms 
of  customs  with  which  he  had  nothing  in  the  world  to  do.  I  beg 
you  to  believe,  sir,  that  the  only  feeling  in  our  Church  at  large 
on  reading  the  Bishop's  letter  will  be  one  of  sorrow  and  shame. 
We  would  not  willingly  see  any  gentleman  insulted  in  our  name, 
and  we  owe  too  much  to  you  for  all  that  you  have  sent  us  in  your 
books,  which  we  know  here  as  well  as  any  Englishman  can,  to 
feel  lightly  the  disgrace  of  such  words  as  the  Bishop  of  Vermont 
has  written." 

In  politics  things  had  not  been  going  as  he  desired  to  see  them. 
In  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment  following  the  emancipation, 
he  had  anticipated  the  end  to  be  reached,  not  taking  into  view 
the  intervening  years,  and  the  mistakes  whose  effect  would  be 
to  retard  the  progress  of  the  freedmen.  From  this  time  he  did 
not  regard  with  such  hopefulness  as  he  had  done  the  course  of 


•  PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         211 

political  campaigns  and  elections.     He  was  giving  himself  more 
exclusively  to  his  distinctive  work. 

"  Philadelphia,  October  12,  1867. 

"Dear  Father, — I  do  not  know  whether  you  will  take  in  a 
letter  from  a  Pennsylvania  man  after  the  way  in  which  we  have 
disgraced  ourselves  this  week,  But  I  assure  you  that  I  voted  the 
Republican  ticket  right  straight  through,  and  it  is  not  my  fault 
that  we  have  been  found  patting  Andrew  Johnson  on  the  back. 
I  did  what  I  could  to  save  the  country,  but  the  State  is  thoroughly 
demoralized.  They  try  to  explain  it  all  by  local  causes,  but  it  is 
hopeless  to  account  for  it  all  so.  There  has  certainly  been  a  sad 
deterioration  of  public  sentiment.  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  it 
seems  to  be  by  no  means  confined  to  Philadelphia.  It  seems  to 
have  run  all  over  the  country.  Ohio  is  bad.  Iowa,  even,  is  not 
up  to  the  mark.  You  cannot  run  principles  without  men,  and 
there  are  no  prominent  men  for  our  principles  just  now." 

Phillips  Brooks  now  began  to  be  claimed  by  other  religious 
communions  as  a  common  treasure,  in  the  light  of  whose  message 
distinctions  of  creed  and  polity  should  become  subordinate.  We 
hear  of  him  as  preaching,  when  he  is  in  New  York,  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  or  in  Philadelphia  at  the  First 
Baptist  Church  and  the  Sixth  Presbyterian  Church,  or  when  he 
goes  to  Boston  at  the  Old  South  Church. 

Among  those  who  were  first  to  recognize  his  unwonted  pulpit 
power  were  the  Unitarians.  Since  the  days  of  Channing,  no 
such  voice  had  appealed  to  them.  They  were  quick  to  discern 
spiritual  or  intellectual  excellence,  and  ready  for  the  voice  of 
the  Spirit  bringing  a  message  for  humanity.  To  the  utterance 
of  Phillips  Brooks,  large,  rich,  and  free,  they  responded  with 
loving  confidence.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Unitarian  Association 
in  Boston,  in  May,  1868,  one  of  the  speakers  was  reported 
as  follows : 

"I  am  told  that  Philadelphia  is  all  alive  with  the  splendid 
preaching  of  one  of  the  occupants  of  the  Episcopal  pulpit  there, 
who  is  imparting  to  that  city  the  fresh  life  and  the  new  day  of 
the  living  gospel.  When  one  of  his  congregation  was  boasting 
of  his  power  to  a  member  of  our  Brother  Furness's  church,  he 
said  in  reply,  'Well,  do  you  know  the  reason?  Your  preacher 
was  born  in  a  Unitarian  home,  educated  in  a  Unitarian  Sunday- 
school,  grew  up  under  liberal  influences,  and  is  giving  you  the 


2i2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

fruit.'  (Applause.)  And  I  say  that  the  faith  that  can  send  forth 
rich,  ripe  fruit  to  bless  the  churches  like  Phillips  Brooks  ...  is 
a  living  faith,  and  is  doing  grand  service  in  the  world  ....  My 
friends,  I  believe  in  the  providential  education  of  emigration." 

It  was  hardly  accurate  to  speak  of  Mr.  Brooks  as  having  been 
born  in  a  Unitarian  home,  for  his  mother,  to  whom  fell  almost 
exclusively  the  religious  training  of  the  children,  was  not  and 
never  had  been  a  Unitarian,  and  indeed  from  her  girlhood  was 
pronounced  and  aggressive  in  her  adherence  to  what  is  known 
as  Orthodox  Congregationalism.  Nor  was  Phillips  Brooks  edu- 
cated in  a  Unitarian  Sunday-school,  but  when  he  went  to  church 
and  Sunday-school  for  the  first  time  it  was  at  St.  Paul's  Episco- 
pal Church  on  Tremont  Street,  of  which  Dr.  Vinton  was  the 
rector.  Nor  can  he  be  said  to  have  grown  up  under  liberal  influ- 
ences, for  he  continued  to  sit  under  Dr.  Vinton's  ministry  until 
he  left  Boston  for  the  theological  seminary  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  in  Virginia.  There  is  no  evidence  that  up  to  this  time  he 
had  read  the  writings  of  Channing  or  of  Martineau.  There  are, 
at  least,  no  references  to  them  in  his  note-books.  There  is,  how- 
ever, in  the  theological  antecedents  of  Phillips  Brooks  a  resem- 
blance to  Maurice,  whose  father  was  a  Unitarian  and  his  mother 
a  Calvinist.  It  had  been  the  life  work  of  Maurice  to  reconcile 
an  inherited  theological  antagonism.  To  some  extent  Brooks 
experienced  the  process  through  which  Maurice  passed.  He 
inherited  the  twofold  tendency,  the  humanitarian  from  his  father, 
and  the  theistic  from  his  mother, — the  maternal  inheritance  being 
the  stronger.  His  work  resembles  that  of  Maurice  in  the  effort 
to  hold  in  equilibrium  these  tendencies  which,  existing  apart,  con- 
stitute the  two  wings  of  New  England  Puritanism.  Maurice 
was  the  writer  with  whom  Phillips  Brooks  was  in  deepest  sympa- 
thy. He  began  to  study  his  writings  when  at  the  theological 
seminary ;  in  his  last  years  he  recommended  him  to  young  men  as 
the  greatest  theologian  of  the  age. 

In  April,  1868,  the  Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter,  now  the  bishop  of 
New  York,  had  resigned  his  position  as  assistant  minister  of 
Trinity  Church,  Boston,  on  the  Greene  Foundation,  and  in  July 
Bishop  Eastburn  had  resigned  the  rectorship.  Then  the  vestry 
of  the  church  had  immediately  been  summoned,  and  a  unanimous 
call  had  been  extended  to  Mr.  Brooks  to  become  the  rector.     Mr. 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         213 

Brooks  received  the  formal  document  while  at  Newport  on  a 
visit,  and  thus  speaks  of  it  to  his  father: 

"Newport,  August  18,  1868.  I  want  you  and  Mother  and  the 
boys  to  write  to  Philadelphia,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it  in 
full.  Something  inclines  me  to  come,  but  the  preponderance  is 
decidedly  the  other  way.  I  shall  be  here  till  some  time  next 
week,  probably  Tuesday  or  Wednesday.  Am  having  a  charming 
time.     Love  to  all. 

"Affectionately,  Phill." 

A  problem  of  a  different  kind  was  confronting  Phillips  Brooks 
at  the  time  when  he  received  the  call,  on  whose  solution  hung 
his  destiny, — whether  he  should  or  should  not  leave  the  city  of 
Philadelphia.  No  allusion  is  made  to  it,  however,  in  the  corre- 
spondence relating  to  his  invitation  to  become  the  rector  of 
Trinity  Church,  Boston.  His  father,  his  mother,  his  brothers, 
all  wrote  urging  him  to  accept  the  call.  Other  letters  from  mem- 
bers of  the  parish,  from  the  bishop,  and  from  clergymen  pro- 
minent in  the  diocese,  gave  the  reasons  why  he  should  regard 
it  as  a  duty  to  accept  the  call.  There  was  great  work  to  be  done 
for  the  Episcopal  Church ;  he  could  speak  to  the  whole  city,  and 
his  voice  would  resound  throughout  the  Commonwealth  of  Massa- 
chusetts, throughout  New  England.  He  would  overcome  the 
negative  disintegrating  influences  which  were  weakening  the 
churches;  he  could  restore  the  waning  prestige  of  religion  and 
could  save  the  people  from  resorting  to  false  guides  or  from  seek- 
ing a  refuge  in  sensuous  appeals  of  ritualism.  Trinity  Church 
would  be  as  a  throne  from  which  he  could  sway  the  multitudes, 
or,  to  change  the  metaphor,  a  strategic  centre,  from  whence 
operations  could  be  successively  conducted  that  would  alter  a 
situation  of  weakness  into  one  of  strength.  There  were  other 
arguments:  he  could  influence  young  men  on  a  large  scale,  for 
Boston  with  its  suburbs  was  the  educational  centre  of  the  coun- 
try. He  owed  something  to  Boston  as  the  place  of  his  birth  and 
education,  the  home  of  his  ancestry.  It  was  of  course  assumed 
in  the  arguments  that  Boston  was  the  most  important  city  in  the 
land,  the  intellectual  centre  from  whence  went  forth  streams  of 
influence  throughout  all  the  country. 

To  these  letters  Mr.  Brooks  gave  one  brief  and  almost  uniform 
reply, — that  he  was  not   the  man  to  do  the  work  which  was 


2i4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

described.  Any  other  answer  could  hardly  have  been  expected 
from  him.  To  have  assumed  that  he  was  able  to  accomplish 
such  a  task  as  these  letters  prophesied,  or  that  he  came  to  Boston 
with  the  intention  or  expectation  of  accomplishing  it,  was  to  put 
him  in  a  false  position  and  endanger  his  usefulness.  He  asked 
the  opinion  of  Dr.  Vinton,  whose  judgment  shows  that  he  was 
under  no  illusion  about  Boston: 

"Pomfret,  August  28,' 1868. 

"My  dear  Brooks, — I  do  not  feel  competent  to  advise  you  in 
so  important  a  matter  with  anything  like  assurance,  and  can  only 
say  in  a  general  way  that  my  impressions  are  against  your 
removal,  on  the  whole. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  of  your  success  in  Boston,  but  lam  more  in  doubt 
of  your  being  so  useful  as  in  Philadelphia.  You  are  more  needed 
where  you  are  than  in  a  place  where  the  people  are  more  like  you. 

"You  can  never  have  a  more  devoted  parish  than  Holy  Trinity, 
and  when  you  move  from  it  I  think  it  should  be  to  New  York." 

When  his  decision  to  decline  the  call  was  announced,  there 
went  up  a  wail, — from  the  members  of  his  family,  from  the 
church,  and  from  the  many  who  had  an  interest  in  his  coming 
to  Boston.  Mr.  George  M.  Dexter,  the  senior  warden  of  Trinity, 
wrote:  "Yours,  putting  an  end  to  all  our  hopes,  came  duly  to 
hand.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  we  should  have  all  enjoyed 
your  being  able  to  come  to  the  opposite  conclusion.  What  we 
shall  do  I  have  not  the  least  idea."  Dr.  Stone,  the  dean  of  the 
new  Episcopal  Theological  School  in  Cambridge,  wrote:  "Your 
letter  of  the  7th  inst.  announcing  the  fact  that  you  had  declined 
the  call  to  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  made  my  heart  sick;  I  had  so 
longed  and  hoped  for  a  different  decision."  Dr.  Francis  Wharton, 
a  professor  in  the  School  and  rector  of  St.  Paul's,  Brookline,  first 
made  the  suggestion  that  the  answer  be  not  considered  final: 

"  I  must  confess  that  your  declination  was  a  great  shock  to  me, 
and  the  longer  the  time  that  elapses  since  I  heard  of  it  the 
more  anxious  the  question  becomes.  .  .  .  My  own  feeling  has 
been  that  after  the  lapse  of  a  year  your  decision  could  be  recon- 
sidered. Far,  far  wiser  would  it  be  for  the  parish  to  wait.  .  .  . 
Here  is  really  the  mainspring  of  our  New  England  Church,  and 
here  will  its  tone  be  largely  given.  You  are  the  one  to  do  this, 
and  to  do  it  with  a  breadth  and  power  which  no  one  else  can  ap- 
proach ;  and  I  consider  the  alternative  before  us  with  the  great- 
est anxiety.     You  are  a  Bostonian  and  feel  what  our  want  is." 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         215 

Of  these  expressions  of  disappointment,  none  could  have 
moved  him  more  than  the  letter  from  his  mother: 

"  Boston,  September  9,  1868. 

"My  dearest  Philly, — .  .  .  It  is  a  dreadful  blow  to  all 
of  us.  I  never  can  tell  you  how  badly  we  all  felt  when  your  long- 
looked-for  letter  arrived  at  breakfast  time.  We  were  all  stunned 
and  saddened  by  it;  for  your  long  delay  in  answering  greatly 
encouraged  us  to  hope,  and  the  disappointment  is  intense. 

"...  I  had  thought  I  should  have  my  boy  back  again,  and 
the  thought  of  your  coming  made  Father  and  me  very  happy, 
and  gave  a  new  impetus  to  our  lives;  but  I  fear  we  shall  never 
have  you  now.  We  have  indulged  the  proud  hope  of  seeing  you 
change  wasted  and  suffering  Trinity  into  a  fruitful  field.  Indeed, 
you  could  have  controlled  all  Boston. 

"  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  I  have  been  sick  at  heart  ever  since  I 
heard  it,  and  I  cannot  write  about  it,  for  I  cannot  find  words  to 
tell  you  how  sorry  I  feel.    .    .    ." 

When  he  replied  to  this  letter,  expressing  himself  as  hurt  at 
the  absence  of  any  recognition  of  his  sense  of  duty  in  the  matter, 
his  mother  quickly  wrote  again,  but  in  a  different  mood.  She 
had  recovered  from  her  despondency,  and  was  sharing  in  the 
growing  hope  that  his  decision  was  not  final. 

Here  the  subject  of  Boston  and  Trinity  Church  may  be 
dropped  for  a  moment,  while  we  return  to  Philadelphia  to 
follow  him  in  the  last  year  of  his  residence  there.  His  visit 
to  Boston  in  October  was  for  the  purpose  of  acting  as  chap- 
lain on  the  occasion  of  breaking  ground  for  Memorial  Hall  at 
Harvard.  While  in  Boston  he  preached  in  Trinity  Church, 
which  gave  him  an  opportunity  for  looking  at  the  situation  with 
reference  to  himself  as  he  had  not  hitherto  done.  During  his 
last  year  as  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  he  was 
experiencing  vicissitudes  in  human  affairs.  The  city  and  the 
church  were  not  quite  the  same  to  him  as  they  had  been.  His 
popularity  was  not  diminished;  indeed  his  power  in  the  pulpit 
was  greater  than  ever,  and  his  personal  prestige  something 
unknown  in  clerical  life.  The  devotion  of  his  congregation  still 
attended  him.  But  nothing  could  quite  compensate  for  losses 
which  closely  affected  him.  He  was  dependent  on  his  friend- 
ships. Gaps  had  been  made  in  the  circle  of  those  with  whom  he 
spent  his  hours  of  leisure.     The  little  coterie  which  had  met 


2i6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

weekly  at  dinner  under  the  hospitable  roof  of  Mr.  Cooper  was 
sadly  reduced.  The  call  to  arise  and  depart  could  no  longer 
surprise  him,  strongly  as  he  was  still  bound  to  the  friends  who 
remained. 

At  this  time  he  turned  much  to  the  younger  men  who  were 
coming  out  of  the  Divinity  School.  The  difference  that  separated 
them  in  age  was  not  great ;  he  had  reached  in  1869  his  thirty-fourth 
year.  His  brother  Arthur,  his  junior  by  fourteen  years,  was 
with  him,  a  student  at  the  Divinity  School,  and  between  them 
there  grew  up  an  intimate  friendship,  not  always  the  rule  with 
brothers.  Through  Arthur,  earlier  through  Frederick,  he  became 
acquainted  with  the  theological  students,  visiting  them  in  their 
rooms.  Whenever  a  student  read  a  paper  in  any  way  notable, 
he  was  sure  to  learn  its  contents.  One  of  the  younger  clergy 
gives  this  glimpse  of  him  in  1868: 

"He  was  then  at  the  highest  point  of  popularity  and  fame; 
he  was  like  a  great  god,  so  full  of  activity  and  force,  and  the 
wonder  with  me  was  why  such  a  man  cared  for  me.  Yet  I  had 
his  fullest  confidence,  and  he  used  to  pour  out  all  his  contents 
into  my  astonished  ears.  I  have  known  him  to  come  as  late  as 
one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  throw  snowballs  or  bits  of 
stick  at  my  windows  and  give  a  peculiar  whistle,  which  I,  like 
a  game  dog,  instantly  obeyed.  He  used  to  make  me  read  my 
essays  and  sermons  to  him." 

Some  of  the  younger  clergy  had  formed  themselves  into  a  club, 
called  the  "Clericus,"  meeting  every  month,  when  an  essay 
was  read  and  discussed.  The  social  element  was  prominent, 
for  the  members  were  chosen  by  ballot  and  one  object  was  to 
get  "clubable"  men.  They  were  of  similar  views,  yet  not  un- 
willing to  add  to  their  membership  those  who  differed  from  them 
in  opinion,  for  it  gave  more  zest  to  their  discussions.  Although 
they  were  young,  living  at  a  time  which  to  their  elders  seemed  to 
abound  with  omens  of  evil,  when  materialism  was  undermining 
faith  and  a  Romanizing  reaction  appeared  the  only  alternative, 
yet  they  were  fearless,  proposing  to  face  science  and  a  critical 
literature,  to  overcome  the  objections  and  difficulties  each  in  his 
own  way.  The  club  had  no  constitution,  and  no  specific  object, 
except  to  meet  monthly,  when  what  was  uppermost  in  religious 
thought  found  earnest  expression.     If  their  purpose  could  be 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         2 1 7 

described,  it  was  an  ambition  to  emulate  the  spirit  of  St.  Paul: 
"And  now  abideth  faith,  hope,  charity,  these  three,  but  the 
greatest  of  these  is  charity."  They  were  full  of  faith  and  of 
hope  for  the  Church  and  for  the  world.  A  sense  of  exhilaration 
and  expectation  was  in  them,  as  though  a  great  age  were  to  be 
ushered  in,  when  God  in  Christ  would  fulfil  his  promise:  "Be- 
hold, I  make  all  things  new." 

The  familiar  carol  "O  little  town  of  Bethlehem,"  written  by 
Mr.  Brooks  for  his  Sunday-school,  to  which  allusion  has  already 
been  made,  was  sung  for  the  first  time  at  Christmas,  1868,  to  the 
music  furnished  by  Mr.  Redner,  the  organist  at  Holy  Trinity. 
The  hymn  with  its  music  at  once  sprang  into  popularity,  and 
is  now  included  in  all   Sunday-school   collections.1 

Those  who  now  met  Phillips  Brooks  for  the  first  time  were  often 
perplexed  by  his  manner.  The  conventional  clerical  address  was 
wanting;  he  seemed  full  of  mirth  and  giving  full  scope  to  his 
talent  for  nonsense  in  little  things.  This  manner  was  on  him  up 
to  the  moment  of  his  going  into  the  pulpit,  and  he  was  ready, 
when  the  sermon  was  over,  again  to  resume  the  bantering,  jocular 
tone.  In  this  there  may  have  been  a  protest  against  the 
conventional  melancholy  of  the  clergy.  From  the  Puritan  view 
of  human  life  he  was  set  free.  What  was  good  he  could  retain, 
and  enforce  with  power  unequalled,  but  the  morbid  melancholy, 
the  gentle  tone  of  complaint,  he  felt  under  no  obligation  to 
preserve.     In  his  note-book  there  is  this  passage: 

"Man  is  a  sort  of  sunshine  in  the  world,  which,  falling  upon 
everything  besides,  calls  it  out  to  the  flower  of  its  truest  beauty 
and  the  fruitage  of  its  fullest  use.  By  his  touch,  nature  grows 
into  delight  and  supply,  and  all  events  open  into  education. 
And  this  being  true  of  man  at  large,  it  must  be  true  also  of  each 
man  in  his  contact  with  things.  He  must  be  a  ray  of  the  great 
Y 

1  In  the  Christmas  programme  for  that  year  was  this  verse,  not 
afterwards  published  in  any  of  the  hymn-books: 

"Where  children  pure  and  happy 

Pray  to  the  Blessed  Child, 
Where  misery  cries  out  to  Thee, 

Son  of  the  Mother  mild; 
Where  Charity  stands  watching, 

And  Faith  holds  wide  the  door, 
The  dark  night  wakes,  the  glory  breaks, 

And  Christmas  comes  once  more." 


2i8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

sunshine  under  whose  touch  some  special  flower  may  open  and 
some  special  fruit  fill  itself  with  healthy  and  nutritious  juice, 
some  little  corner  of  the  field  grow  rich." 

This  manner  of  Phillips  Brooks,  both  in  conversation  and  in 
his  familiar  correspondence,  might  mislead  any  one  who  did  not 
know  him.  It  did  not  deceive  those  who  knew  him  best.  One 
of  his  friends,  a  lady  with  great  experience  of  life,  thought  that, 
beneath  the  merriment  and  the  wild  humor,  she  could  always 
detect  "Andover."  This  peculiarity  of  manner  served  as  a 
barrier  between  his  inner  life  and  the  curiosity  of  those  who 
desired  to  have  him  talk  of  himself.  He  was  on  his  guard  lest 
he  should  be  betrayed  into  personal  conversation  or  talk  inti- 
mately of  his  own  experience.  There  lay  his  power,  that  he 
reserved  himself  for  the  pulpit,  and  refused  to  weaken  himself 
by  admitting  any  other  mode  of  self-utterance.  He  never  al- 
luded either  in  letters  or  conversation  to  his  popularity  or  to 
his  growing  power  and  influence,  although  he  was  daily  receiving 
tributes  of  admiration  and  even  adulation  tending  to  beget  con- 
ceit and  egotism  and  arrogance.  His  high  distinction,  his  per- 
sonal power,  his  popularity,  his  exceptional  career  tended  to 
constitute  a  barrier  between  him  and  others.  In  his  manner  lay 
his  safeguard.  It  became  a  sentinel ,  over  his  life,  over  emotions 
quickly  roused  into  inward  tumult.  He  gained  relief  by  what 
sometimes  seemed  an  irreverent  mirth. 

With  the  opening  of  the  new  year  1869  the  subject  of  the  call 
to  Trinity  Church  was  reopened  by  a  letter  from  Hon.  R.  C. 
Winthrop  asking  if  there  were  any  immediate  or  even  remote 
possibility  of  his  coming  to  Boston.  If  so  they  would  continue 
to  wait.  But  if  any  imperative  and  inexorable  consideration 
put  Trinity  out  of  the  question  it  would  not  comport  with  the 
dignity  of  either  party  that  such  a  position  should  be  openly 
offered  and  declined  a  second  time  so  soon.  To  this  question 
Mr.  Brooks  replied: 

"January  4,  1869.  ...  I  ought  to  say  at  once  that  I 
see  no  possibility  of  changing  the  decision  to  which  I  came  in  the 
fall.  My  work  here  is  as  exacting  as  ever,  and  I  cannot  see  any 
more  chance  of  leaving  it.  You  say  very  justly  that  it  is  not 
right  for  Trinity  to  renew  its  invitation  only  to  be  declined  again, 
and  ever  since  it  has  been  intimated  to  me  in  several  ways  that 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         219 

there  was  any  thought  of  such  action,  especially  since  I  received 
your  note,  I  have  tried  to  see  whether  it  was  possible  to  hope 
to  give  any  other  answer.     I  cannot  see  that  it  is. 

"  You  will  judge,  no  doubt,  that  for  many  reasons  I  should  like 
to  come  exceedingly.  I  certainly  should.  I  appreciate  fully 
the  value  and  importance  of  the  parish,  and  have  looked  anx- 
iously to  see  the  right  man  appear  for  it. 

"I  do  not  know  after  this  whether  you  will  still  think  the  pro- 
posed interview  desirable.  But  I  should  like  to  talk  with  you 
about  it,  because  talk  is  so  much  more  satisfactory  than  writing." 

Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Boston  on  February  14,  preaching  at 
Trinity  Church  morning  and  afternoon,  and  in  the  evening 
at  the  Old  South  Church  on  Washington  Street  to  a  "crowded 
house,"  under  the  "auspices  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Association."  His  text  was  taken  from  1  Corinthians  xv.,  45. 
A  call  would  have  been  extended  to  him  from  Emmanuel 
Church,  Boston,  made  vacant  by  the  election  of  its  rector  to  the 
bishopric  of  Central  New  York,  had  he  been  willing  to  consider 
it,  but  he  declined.  On  the  whole  he  seemed  to  be  settling 
permanently  in  Philadelphia,  having  made  at  this  time  an  ar- 
rangement for  joint  housekeeping  with  his  friend  Rev.  C.  D. 
Cooper,  who  was  building  a  commodious  residence  with  this 
object  in  view.  But  the  arrangement  did  not  imply  that  Mr. 
Brooks  felt  himself  condemned  to  a  celibate  life.  In  a  letter  to 
Rev.  George  A.  Strong,  he  speaks  on  the  subject  of  matrimony: 

"  February  3,  1869.  Good  luck  to  you  with  all  my  heart,  my 
dear  fellow.  It  is  what  I  have  wanted  for  you  for  years,  and  now 
that  it  has  come,  I  feel  as  rejoiced  as  I  could  be  for  anybody  ex- 
cept myself.  This  is  a  wretched  sort  of  life  that  we  are  living 
now,  and  when  a  man  breaks  out  of  it  as  you  are  going  to  do,  his 
friends  who  stay  behind  must  clap  him  on  the  back  as  he  departs 
and  congratulate  him  with  all  the  intensity  with  which  they  feel 
their  own  forlornness." 

The  convention  of  the  diocese  of  Pennsylvania  met  in  May, 
1869,  and  Phillips  Brooks  preached  the  sermon.  It  was  pub- 
lished by  order  of  the  convention,  under  the  title  of  "The  Living 
Church."  It  was  a  comprehensive  sermon  defining  his  attitude 
at  a  moment  when  excitement  and  alarm  existed  throughout  the 
Episcopal  Church.  One  demurs  a  little  at  the  text,  taken  from  Ex- 
odus xxviii.  34,  35 :  "A  golden  bell  and  a  pomegranate,  a  golden 


22o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

bell  and  a  pomegranate,  upon  the  hem  of  the  robe  round  about. 
And  it  shall  be  upon  Aaron  to  minister:  and  his  sound  shall  be 
heard  when  he  goeth  in  unto  the  holy  place  before  the  Lord,  and 
when  he  cometh  out,  that  he  die  not."  At  this  stage  in  his  career, 
he  was  wont  to  search  for  passages  in  the  Bible  whose  meaning 
was  not  at  once  apparent, — a  practice  he  afterwards  ridiculed  as 
clerical  affectation.  He  seeks  to  connect  the  text  with  his  theme, 
but  when  he  is  launched  into  the  sermon  it  disappears.  The 
pomegranate  stands  for  the  accumulation  of  life  and  its  ripening 
fruit  in  the  soul,  the  bell  for  its  living  utterance  and  proclamation. 
The  distinctive  character  of  the  sermon  lies  in  putting  the  liv- 
ing soul  before  the  living  Church.  The  Church  is  the  aggregate  of 
Christian  life.  Government  and  symbols  are  not  the  Church. 
There  is  nothing  belonging  to  the  Church  in  its  totality  which  does 
not  first  belong  to  individual  souls.  The  danger  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical spirit,  the  danger  for  all  churchmen  and  for  all  times  to  fear, 
is  that  there  lies  a  certain  vitality  in  the  Church  apart  from  the 
life  of  the  souls  within  her.  There  is  danger  that  the  Church 
may  harm  the  life  given  to  her  to  cultivate,  by  stopping  the  chan- 
nels through  which  Christ  communicates  with  souls. 


"If  a  church  in  any  way  hinders  the  free  play  of  human 
thoughtfulness  upon  religious  things  by  clothing  with  mysteri- 
ous reverence — and  so  shutting  out  from  the  region  of  thought 
and  study — acts  and  truths  which  can  be  thoroughly  used  only 
as  they  are  growingly  understood,  by  limiting  within  hard  and 
minute  and  invariable  doctrinal  statements  the  variety  of  the 
realtions  of  the  human  experience  to  God ;  if  in  any  such  way  a 
church  hinders  at  all  the  free  inflow  of  every  new  light  which  God 
is  waiting  to  give  to  the  souls  of  men  as  fast  as  they  are  ready  to 
receive  it,  just  so  far  she  binds  and  wrongs  her  children's  intel- 
ligence and  weakens  her  own  vitality.  This  is  the  suicide  of 
Dogmatism. 

"Or  if  a  church  lets  any  technical  command  of  hers  stand 
across  the  path,  that  a  command  of  God  cannot  get  free  access  to 
the  will  of  any  of  the  least  of  all  God's  people — a  system  of  ecclesi- 
astical morality,  different  from  the  eternal  morality  which  lies 
above  the  Church,  between  the  soul  and  God,  a  morality  which 
hides  some  eternal  duties  and  winks  at  some  eternal  sins, — just 
so  far  the  Church  wrongs  her  children's  consciences  and  weakens 
her  own  vitality.     This  is  the  suicide  of  Corruption. 

"Or  yet  again,  if  the  symbols  of  the  Church,  which  ought  to 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         221 

convey  God's  love  to  man,  become  so  hard  that  the  love  does  not 
find  its  way  through  them  and  they  stand  as  splendid  screens 
between  the  Soul  and  the  Love,  or  have  such  a  positive  character 
of  their  own,  so  far  forget  their  simple  duty  of  pure  transparency 
and  mere  transmission,  that  they  send  the  Love  down  to  the  soul 
colored  with  themselves,  formalized  and  artificial ;  if  the  Church 
dares  either  to  limit  into  certain  channels  or  to  bind  to  certain 
forms  of  expression  that  love  of  God  which  is  as  spiritual  and  as 
free  as  God,  then  yet  again  she  is  false  to  her  duty,  she  binds  and 
wrongs  her  children's  loving  hearts,  and  once  again  weakens  her 
own  vitality.     This  is  the  suicide  of  Formalism. 

"...  We  must  come  forth  into  the  clear  spiritual  life  of  Christ, 
which  desires  nothing  but  to  know  Him,  and  obey  Him,  and  feel 

Him  more  and  more The  enforcement  of  a  scheme   of 

moral  law  or  good  behaviour,  making  the  Church  a  police  system 
to  keep  the  world  in  order;  the  mere  introduction  of  a 
system  of  church  government  and  worship,  or  the  compact  sym- 
metry of  the  Church's  year,  the  beautiful  order  of  the  Church's 
education;  every  sacred  rite  and  every  sensuous  impression; — 
all  this  is  machinery  through  which  the  life  may  manifest  itself, 
but  apart  from  the  life  or  power  of  Christ  entering  into  the  Church 
as  truth,  guidance,  and  love,  it  becomes  mere  machinery,  with  the 
vital  fires  gone  out  in  the  furnaces  below.  .  .  .  The  rites  and 
ceremonies  must  be  clearly  significant  of  truth,  and  not  like  the 
malignant  ritualism  of  our  day,  significant  of  error;  nor  like  the 
tawdry  ritualism  of  our  day,  significant  of  nothing,  a  ghost  of 
dead  incantations. 

"The  world  does  not  hear  with  any  attention  the  ringing  of  our 
golden  bells.  Men  do  not  listen  as  we  go.  Men  neither  fear  the 
Church  nor  desire  the  Church  as  we  sometimes  dream  they  might ; 
as  we  sometimes  think  in  our  reading  that  once  they  did.  The 
world  in  large  part  goes  its  own  way,  and  leaves  us  on  one  side. 
We  are  foreign  and  unreal  to  it. 

"What  is  it  that  is  needed?  I  say  by  all  means  that  the  first 
need  is  larger  liberty.  I  think  that  all  of  us  churchmen  are  bur- 
dened with  the  consciousness  that  there  is  more  in  the  Church 
than  gets  out  to  contact  with  the  world.  The  Church  is  better 
than  her  utterances.  There  is  a  larger  thought  than  our  ser- 
mons utter.  Many  a  man  talks  better  than  he  preaches.  There 
are  conventionalities  and  timidities  of  teaching  that  restrain  the 
Truth.  Does  the  world  guess  how  the  Church  loves  her  Master? 
Does  it  imagine,  from  outside,  the  reality  and  intensity  of  that 
affectionate  dependence  which  you  and  I  know  so  well  to  be  real 
and  intense  seeing  it  here  within,  but  which  attests  itself  so  feebly, 
so  formally,  so  artificially  in  a  few  stereotyped  and  narrow  ways? 
There  is  a  deep,  spontaneous  devotion  that  lacks  the  chance  of  a 
corresponding  spontaneity  of  utterance  and  action.     Am  I  not 


222  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

right?     I  plead  for  no  special  methods  of  liberation.     I  only 
point  out  what  we  all  must  know.  .   .  . 

"Christ  is  the  Life;  first  in  our  souls,  to  which  He  enters  by  His 
Spirit  in  knowledge  and  authority  and  love,  so  that  'not  we  live, 
but  Christ  liveth  in  us';  and  then  in  our  Church,  where  He  alone 
is  still  the  Teacher  and  the  Master  and  the  Saviour,  filling  it  with 
Himself  and  clothing  it  with  His  righteousness." 

Toward  the  end  of  May  his  father  wrote  him  a  very  personal 
letter:  "I  want  to  ask  you  whether  you  have  given  up  all  idea 
of  coming  to  Trinity — a  bold  question,  but  not  a  day,  sometimes 
it  appears  to  me  hardly  an  hour,  passes  that  I  am  not  asked  the 
same  question.  They  are  getting  anxious  and  desperate.  .  .  . 
Let  me  know  whether  you  would  accept  if  another  call  was 
made."  To  this  request  he  continued  to  give  the  same  unsatis- 
factory answer: 

"June  i,  1869.  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  nothing  satisfactory 
to  say.  I  do  not  feel  ready  to  intimate  in  any  way  that  it  is 
more  likely  than  it  was  last  year  that  I  could  come  to  Trinity. 
Some  of  the  reasons  which  prevented  me  last  year,  it  is  true, 
have  been  removed,  but  I  have  not  got  over  the  feeling  that  I 
am  not  suited  in  many  respects  to  Boston  and  Trinity,  and 
there  is  still  very  much  to  make  it  difficult  for  me  to  leave  my 
present  parish.  .  .  .  Why  don't  they  look  some  other  way 
and  take  their  eyes  off  me?     It  worries  me." 

His  father's  rejoinder  was  in  a  desponding  tone,  dwelling  on 
the  wretchedness  of  the  situation;  the  vestry  of  Trinity  had 
met  and  concluded  to  postpone  the  subject  till  the  fall: 

"I  was  sorry  you  got  caught  by  that  .  .  .  invitation  [to 
speak  at  the  anniversary  in  Boston  of  the  Free  Religious  As- 
sociation]; it  was  one  of  their  tricks  and  only  done  to  catch 
your  name  to  bolster  up  their  radicalism.  Better  let  them  alone 
and  have  nothing  to  do  with  them;  it  will  surely  injure  you. 
Don't  get  the  name  of  being  a  Latitudinarian,  I  beg  of  you." 

He  sat  down  to  his  task  of  writing  an  oration  to  be  delivered 
before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Brown  University  at  its 
coming  Commencement.  His  subject  was  the  "Relation  of 
the  Scholar  to  the  World."  The  peculiar  interest  of  the  treat- 
ment lay  in  his  development  of  the  power  of  personality, — a 
thought  now  much  in  his  mind.     The  address  was  delivered  in 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         223 

the  First  Baptist  Meeting  House  in  Providence.  Long  before 
the  appointed  hour,  the  capacious  building  was  filled  with  an 
audience  waiting  impatiently  the  advent  of  the  procession  which 
came  down  the  hill  from  the  university  grounds.  So  steep  is 
the  hill  that  "the  band  of  music  which  accompanied  the  pro- 
cession was  obliged  to  play  a  very  solemn  march  in  order  to  keep 
the  dignified  gentlemen  from  descending  too  rapidly.  This  was 
changed  to  a  livelier  strain  as  the  procession  gained  the  level 
street  below  and  approached  the  church."  Professor  George  P. 
Fisher  of  Yale  College  introduced  the  orator  of  the  day,  who 
produced  at  Providence  the  same  impression  as  elsewhere,  and 
was  followed  by  the  same  comment: 

"Thought  succeeded  thought  with  such  rapidity  that  we  were 
in  a  condition  of  intense  mental  tension  through  the  whole 
oration,  which,  continuing  an  hour,  seemed  to  have  no  boundary 
of  time  to  mark  its  limit." 

In  the  latter  part  of  June  he  visited  his  brother  Frederick  in 
Cleveland,  Ohio,  going  from  there  to  Gambier,  and  thence  to 
Cincinnati  to  be  present  at  the  marriage  of  a  friend.  On  his 
return  he  wrote  to  his  older  brother: 

"July  4,  1869.  This  is  the  great  Independence  Day,  which  in 
old  time  we  used  to  celebrate  by  a  morning's  promenade,  with 
ten  cents  apiece  in  our  pockets  to  purchase  dainties  at  the  stalls 
around  the  Common,  and  by  going  to  the  Fireworks  in  the  even- 
ing. To-day  we  will  keep  it  a  little  differently.  I  am  going  to 
preach  a  patriotic  sermon  to  an  audience  of  soldiers  this  morn- 
ing, and  to  ride  out  into  the  country  this  afternoon,  and  spend 
the  night.  It  won't  be  so  exciting  as  the  old  way,  but  it  will 
be  more  satisfactory  and  comfortable  for  hot  weather. 

"Besides,  I  have  had  my  excitement.  I  have  been  to  see  Old 
Febick  [the  family  name  for  Frederick].  I  found  him  standing 
recumbent  with  his  ears  up  and  every  sign  of  vigorous  vitality. 
The  new  church  was  on  his  mind,  as  it  was  on  that  of  the  whole 
city  and  State  apparently.  It  seems  to  promise  a  speedy  success. 
I  preached  for  him  all  day  Sunday,  and  found  it  screamingly  hot. 

"Have  you  read  Old  Town  Folks,  and  is  n't  it  clever  and  in- 
teresting? A  New  England  story  to  one  who  lives  in  this  dead 
Quaker  atmosphere  has  a  sort  of  spring  and  snap  to  it  that  is 
very  refreshing.    .    .    ." 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  the  vestry  of  Trinity  Church  to 


224  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

postpone  the  renewal  of  the  call  till  the  autumn.  But  a  change 
had  taken  place  in  the  situation.  The  personal  issue  which  had 
made  Phillips  Brooks  hesitant  and  vacillating  had  been  deter- 
mined. He  was  free  to  stay  or  to  leave.  A  sudden  visit  was 
made  by  the  senior  warden  of  Trinity  to  Philadelphia  for  the 
purpose  of  a  personal  interview.  When  he  returned  to  Boston, 
the  vestry  was  hurriedly  convened,  and  on  July  6th  a  second  call 
was  extended.  What  could  be  done  to  retain  him  in  Phila- 
delphia was  done,  but  most  of  the  parishioners  were  away, 
and  there  seems  to  have  been  a  feeling  that  effort  was  useless. 
A  church  on  the  defence  against  such  aggressive  attacks  is  at  a 
disadvantage.  But  the  vestry  of  Holy  Trinity  met  and  again 
made  a  vigorous  protest  against  the  severance  of  their  relations 
as  pastor  and  people,  urging  upon  him  the  greatness  of  his  field 
of  influence  in  Philadelphia  and  his  wonderful  success.  A  prom- 
inent clergyman  wrote  to  him: 

"I  know  that  you  will  not  stay  in  Philadelphia,  but  don't  go 
to  Boston!  Save  yourself  for  New  York.  That  will  give  you  a 
little  longer  to  your  people  here,  and  New  York  is  the  place  for 
you.  But  Boston!  What  can  you  do  there?  They  are  too 
much  set  in  their  own  wisdom.  They  are  too  unemotional. 
You  will  be  cast  away  there.  What  you  want  is  a  congregation 
somewhere  near  the  heart  of  the  world,  where  its  pulses  are 
felt  and  all  things  stir, — a  crowd  of  new  people  of  to-day  is  the 
kind  of  matter  upon  which  you  ought  to  work." 

As  the  days  went  on  he  became  aware  that  he  had  created  the 
expectation  in  the  minds  of  people  at  Trinity  that  he  would  come. 
But  a  veil  of  reserve  hangs  about  the  whole  affair.  His  letter  of 
resignation  implies  a  struggle.  It  was  sent  to  his  senior  warden, 
at  whose  house  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  dining  on  Sundays 
for  seven  years: 

"  2026  Spruce  Street,  July  29,  1869. 

"Dear  Mr.  Coffin, — At  last,  with  great  sorrow,  I  send  you  my 
resignation.  Will  you  please  lay  it  before  the  Vestry  and  secure 
their  acceptance  of  it? 

"You  do  not  agree  with  me,  but  I  beg  you  to  believe  me  honest 
and  sincere  in  my  desire  to  do  what  is  right.  I  have  given  it 
thought,  carefulness,  and  prayer,  and  have  tried  to  decide  it  in 
God's  fear.  I  can  say  no  more,  and  only  entreat  you  to  try  to 
think  the  best  of  my  decision. 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         225 

"I  want  to  thank  you  especially,  my  dear  Mr.  Coffm  for  all 
your  goodness.  I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  tell.  I  shall  never 
forget  it,  but  wherever  I  go  my  love  for  you  shall  always  be  as 
warm  and  fresh  as  it  is  to-day. 

"As  to  the  time  of  my  resignation  taking  effect,  I  want  to  do 
exactly  what  you  think  best  as  far  as  possible.  I  can  come  back 
for  the  third  Sunday  in  September  and  can  stay  a  month  or  six 
weeks  after  that,  if  it  is  thought  best.  Please  tell  me  freely 
what  you  think  about  it. 

"May  God  bless  you  always,  you  and  all  of  yours. 

"Your  affectionate  friend,         P.  B." 

When  it  was  known  that  the  decision  was  final  there  was  no  de- 
lay in  action  on  the  part  of  the  Holy  Trinity  Church.  On  July 
31  the  vestry  met  and  accepted  the  resignation,  passing  the  usual 
resolutions  of  regret  which  attested  his  eminent  abilities,  his  suc- 
cess, and  the  cordial  relations  of  minister  and  people.  Letters 
of  regret  and  deep  sorrow,  letters  of  welcome  and  congratulation, 
fill  up  the  scene.  Mr.  John  Bohlen  writes  him,  when  he  learned 
the  decision:  "  I  can  only  hope,  and  yet  I  ought  not  for  their  sakes, 
and  do  not,  that  others  of  the  hundreds  of  families  in  our  church 
have  not  suffered  with  so  deep  a  sense  of  personal  loss  as  our 
household  has  to-day." 

He  wrote  to  Dr.  Vinton  his  decision,  asking  him  to  "bless  him 
away  from  Holy  Trinity,  as  he  had  blessed  him  to  it  "  ;  to  which 
Dr.  Vinton  replied: 

"I  say  with  my  heart,  'May  you  be  happy.'  I  suppose  I  shall 
see  less  of  you  and  less  of  Philadelphia  now,  and  this  is  my 
only  regret  in  the  matter.  .  .  .  When  I  say  my  only  regret,  I 
mean  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  regret  it  mightily  for  the 
Philadelphians." 

Mr.  Brooks  spent  his  vacation  in  Boston,  making  a  short  visit 
on  the  way  to  West  Point,  where  he  preached  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Military  Academy.  He  went  back  to  Boston,  but  no  longer  to 
the  familiar  house  No.  3  Rowe  Street  (Chauncy  Street),  once  a 
street  of  residences,  but  now  given  up  to  wholesale  warehouses. 
He  was  a  man  who  loved  to  preserve  old  associations  unchanged. 
"And  so  we've  got  a  new  house,  and  3  Rowe  Street  and  41 
Chauncy  Street  will  be  things  of  the  past.  Alas,  how  the  days 
go  by.     It  never  will  be  natural  to  eat  dinner  in  Hancock  Street. 


226  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Is  the  new  house  fine?  I  hope  not.  And  will  you  let  common 
folks  come  to  stay  in  it?"  His  mother  disliked  and  dreaded  the 
change.  But  the  father  was  more  cheerful  over  the  prospect: 
"  It  is  an  old  house,  and  there  is  a  good  deal  to  do  to  it.  It  is  one 
you  will  feel  just  as  much  at  home  in  as  at  High  Street  or  Chauncy 
Street.  Nothing  'stuck  up'  about  it;  like  all  our  other  houses, 
'  neat  but  not  gaudy ' ;  not  like  the  houses  on  the  Back  Bay,  where 
the  people  go  out  in  the  morning  to  find  the  doorsteps  have  sunk 
out  of  sight ;  but  it  is  on  the  solid  hardpan  of  Beacon  Hill,  original 
soil,  street  named  from  the  old  John  Hancock." 

The  short  summer  over,  Mr.  Brooks  returned  to  Philadelphia 
for  a  few  Sundays  before  his  resignation  should  take  effect.  On 
Sunday,  October  24,  he  preached  his  last  sermons  as  rector  of  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity ;  in  the  morning  from  the  text  Ephe- 
sians  iv.  30:  "And  grieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  whereby  ye 
are  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption."  In  the  afternoon  he 
took  leave  of  his  congregation  with  an  extemporaneous  sermon, 
when  the  occasion  was  one  of  deep  and  sorrowful  emotion.  Thus 
came  to  an  end  his  ministry  of  ten  years  in  Philadelphia. 

Among  the  ties  which  bound  Phillips  Brooks  to  Philadelphia, 
none  was  closer  than  his  friendship  with  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell, 
which  dates  from  the  time  when  Mr.  Brooks  became  rector  of 
the  Church  of  the  Advent.  No  one  is  more  competent  than  Dr. 
Mitchell  to  speak  of  Mr.  Brooks  during  his  ministry  in  Phila- 
delphia. 

"In  the  year  1861,  not  long  after  Phillips  Brooks  came  to  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  I  first  heard  him  preach.  I  was  struck 
with  the  ardor  and  intensity  of  the  man,  and  with  the  imagina- 
tive qualities  which,  in  later  years,  were  more  or  less  subjected 
to  the  rule  of  a  growing  intellect.  .  .  . 

"When  he  became  my  rector  at  Holy  Trinity  he  lived  quite 
near  to  me.  Always  once,  and  usually  twice,  a  week  he  dined 
with  us,  and  five  evenings  out  of  seven  was  in  the  habit  of  drop- 
ping in  about  ten  o'clock  for  a  talk  and  a  smoke  before  the  fire 
in  my  library.  At  this  time  my  household  was  in  charge  of  my 
sister  Elizabeth,  a  maiden  lady,  even  then  in  breaking  health, 
some  years  older  than  I,  and,  as  Phillips  Brooks  was  much  my 
junior,  very  far  older  than  he.  Between  these  two  people  a  close 
friendship  arose.  .  .  .  She  was  by  nature  fond  of  books,  and, 
with  increasing  ill  health  and  rare  freedom  from  pain,  her  appetite 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         227 

for  reading  grew  with  what  it  fed  on.  In  many  directions  she 
became  singularly  learned,  but  especially  so  in  all  biblical  litera- 
ture, and  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  Her  reading,  however,  was 
wide  and  various.  .  .  .  Witty,  quick  of  tongue,  picturesque  and 
often  quaint  in  statement,  her  talk  was  full  of  pleasant  surprises. 
She  was  for  years  before  her  death  a  nearly  constant  sufferer,  but 
no  weakness  conquered  her.  .  .  .  Into  this  life  of  humor,  learning, 
and  liberal-minded  religion,  where  pain  was  rarely  absent,  Phil- 
lips Brooks  found  his  way,  and  as  the  years  went  by  became  her 
friend.  He  said  to  me  once  that  no  one  had  so  influenced  his 
opinions  as  this  remarkable  woman. 

"We  made  many  journeys  together,  and  one  summer  a  long 
canoe  voyage  from  Moosehead  to  the  sea  by  the  Allegash  and  St. 
John  rivers.  At  this  time  he  was  a  very  strong  man,  and  his 
physical  force  was  a  source  of  admiration  to  our  stalwart  guides. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  as  years  went  on  he  left  his  great  frame 
without  its  essential  tonic  exercise.  Upon  this  question  I  ex- 
erted my  influence  in  vain,  and  even  within  the  last  few  years  I 
over  and  over  predicted  to  him  the  physical  calamities  which  he 
was  surely  inviting.  He  assured  me  that  he  had  no  time  to  walk, 
and  that  he  felt  no  need  for  exertion.  He  was  always  somewhat 
annoyed  by  allusions  to  his  health. 

"  During  these  summer  journeys  Phillips  delighted  to  swim  and 
to  use  the  paddle,  and  found  deep  joy  in  the  free  woodland  life. 
He  neither  shot  nor  fished.  I  think  he  had  a  great  dislike  to 
killing  even  a  troublesome  insect. 

"At  one  time  I  asked  him  to  try  to  speak  less  rapidly  when 
preaching.  He  tried  it,  but  found,  as  I  suspected  he  would, 
that  the  speed  of  his  extemporaneous  speech  had  some  relation 
to  the  rate  of  his  thinking,  and  that  to  interfere  with  the  normal 
rate  of  delivery  of  what  the  mind  made  ready  was  fatal.  His  rate 
of  extemporaneous  speech  seemed  to  set  the  rate  for  his  read  ser- 
mons, and  all  effort  to  alter  it  became  fruitless.  As  an  extempo- 
raneous speaker  he  was  simply  matchless.  I  heard  him  twice 
during  the  war,  at  public  meetings  where  he  was  unexpectedly 
called  upon.  The  effect  was  such  as  I  have  never  seen  before  in 
any  assembly  of  men. 

"When  Brooks  came  to  Philadelphia  he  had  been  long  away 
from  the  conventional,  either  in  the  Divinity  School  or  in  his  lit- 
tle up-town  church.  At  first  he  remonstrated  with  our  efforts  to 
make  him  see  the  need  for  much  that  he  found  irksome  and  de- 
structive of  time.  He  soon  yielded,  and  became  in  the  end  care- 
ful as  to  the  ordinary  social  rules  and  duties. 

"He  was  subject  to  rare  moods  of  utter  silence.  I  have  seen 
him  sit  through  a  dinner  party  and  hardly  utter  a  word ;  usually 
he  was  an  easy  and  animated  guest. 

"He  did  not  much  affect  the  clerical  style  or  ways,  and  on  our 


228  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

long  canoe  journey  the  guides  were  three  weeks  before  they 
found  out  that  he  was  a  clergyman. 

"  He  was  intellectually  sympathetic  and  liked  to  talk  to  men  of 
their  own  work.  As  to  moral  sympathy  he  seemed  to  me  remark- 
able. A  young  mother  who  had  lost  her  only  child  once  said  to 
me,  '  He  is  the  one  person  who  has  seemed  to  me  to  enter  into  my 
grief  as  if  he  really  shared  it,'  and  yet  at  this  time  he  had  expe- 
rienced no  trouble  in  life. 

"I  have  known  a  number  of  the  men  we  call  great, — poets, 
statesmen,  soldi ers; — but  Phillips  was  the  only  one  I  ever  knew 
who  seemed  to  me  entirely  great.  I  have  seen  him  in  many  of 
the  varied  relations  of  life,  and  always  he  left  with  me  a  sense  of 
the  competent  largeness  of  his  nature.  Perhaps  the  most  vivid 
picture  I  retain  of  him  is  as  he  appeared  to  me  at  his  Wednesday 
lectures  years  ago.  Then  he  used  to  stand  away  from  a  desk,  so 
that  his  massive  figure  and  the  strength  of  his  head  had  their 
effect,  and  from  his  great  height  the  magic  of  his  wonderful  eyes 
was  felt,  like  the  light  from  some  strong  watch-tower  by  the  sea. 
There  and  thus  you  got  all  the  impressible  emphasis  his  noble 
sturdiness  gave  to  the  torrent  of  speech,  which  at  first  had,  for  a 
little,  some  air  of  hesitancy,  and  then  rolled  on,  easy,  fluent,  and 
strong." 

It  was  a  good  thing  for  Phillips  Brooks — a  providential  order- 
ing of  his  life — that  he  began  his  ministry  in  Philadelphia.  He 
had  the  consciousness  of  power,  but  he  was  shy  and  sensitive,  and 
of  a  delicate  inward  susceptibility  which  might  easily  have  been 
hurt.  Had  he  gone  to  a  colder,  more  critical  atmosphere,  such  as 
New  England  is  popularly  reputed  to  be,  it  is  possible  to  imagine 
that  he  might  have  been  chilled  by  rebuffs  or  not  at  first  under- 
stood or  appreciated.  He  might  have  been  driven  back  upon 
himself,  and  in  the  moment  of  his  first  self-expression  have  failed 
to  take  the  world  into  the  confidence  of  his  soul.  He  might  have 
been  intimidated  by  the  prestige  which  from  his  childhood  he  had 
learned  to  revere  in  the  men  and  the  positions  of  the  place  where 
he  had  grown  up,  and  have  had  greater  difficulty  in  adjusting 
himself  as  a  man  to  the  environment  of  his  early  years.  But 
Philadelphia  meant  freedom  from  these  possibilities.  In  its 
warm-heartedness,  its  rich  and  genial  hospitality,  its  quick  recog- 
nition, free  from  any  tendency  to  overcriticism ;  in  its  capacity  for 
real  living,  without  the  tendency  to  introversiveness  of  the  New 
England  character, — in  these  conditions  there  was  an  appropriate 
climate,  where  the  genius  of  Phillips  Brooks  might  thrive  abun- 


PHILADELPHIA  MINISTRY         229 

dantly.  There  was  no  hostile  criticism  to  repress  the  utterances  of 
his  inner  life,  but  indeed  so  much  encouragement  that  from  the 
first  he  poured  himself  forth  freely,  and  without  restraint,  and 
each  effort  of  his  genius  was  an  encouragement  to  further  effort, 
till  he  quickly  came  to  mastery  of  himself  and  of  the  situation. 
We  may  say  of  his  whole  ministry  in  Philadelphia  what  he  said  of 
Dr.  Vinton's  short  pastorate  at  Holy  Trinity,  "It  was  one  of  the 
brightest  and  sunniest  pictures  which  the  annals  of  clerical  life 
have  anywhere  to  show."  In  his  memorial  sermon  on  Dr.  Vin- 
ton he  thus  speaks  of  Philadelphia: 

"Philadelphia  is  a  city  where  the  Episcopal  Church  is  thor- 
oughly at  home.  Side  by  side  with  the  gentler  Puritanism  of  that 
sunnier  clime,  the  Quakerism  which  quarrelled  and  protested,  but 
always  quarrelled  and  protested  peacefully,  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land had  lived  and  nourished  in  the  colonial  days,  and  handed 
down  a  well-established  life  to  the  new  Church  which  sprang  out 
of  her  veins  at  the  Revolution.  It  was  the  temperate  zone  of 
religious  life  with  all  its  quiet  richness.  Free  from  antagonism, 
among  a  genial  and  social  people,  with  just  enough  of  internal 
debate  and  difference  to  insure  her  life,  enlisting  the  enthusiastic 
activity  of  her  laity  to  a  degree  which  we  in  Boston  know  nothing 
of,  with  a  more  demonstrative  if  not  a  deeper  piety,  with  a  confi- 
dence in  herself  which  goes  forth  in  a  sense  of  responsibility 
for  the  community  and  a  ready  missionary  zeal,  the  Church  in 
Philadelphia  was  to  the  Church  in  Boston  much  like  what  a  broad 
Pennsylvania  valley  is  to  a  rough  New  England  hillside." 

Among  many  attempts  to  describe  the  impression  made  by 
Phillips  Brooks's  preaching  when  in  Philadelphia,  the  following 
account  is  the  best,  coming  from  a  most  intelligent  observer: 

"The  costly,  spacious  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  in  Ritten- 
house  Square,  was  always  filled,  crowded  in  all  weathers,  when- 
ever it  was  known  that  he  was  going  to  preach.  And  yet  to  the 
breathless  multitudes  who  came  and  went  under  the  spell  of  his 
unique  eloquence  as  certainly  as  the  tides,  he  stood  an  insoluble 
puzzle  and  wonder.  No  one  could  question  the  genuineness  of 
his  eloquence  or  resist  its  witchery,  and  yet  no  one  could  touch 
the  secret  of  his  power.  Perhaps  there  never  was  developed  in 
any  pulpit  a  parallel  experience.  Here  were  thousands  crowding 
the  pews  and  standing  room  of  the  Holy  Trinity  Church,  Sunday 
after  Sunday,  and  year  after  year,  with  growing  enthusiasm 
towards  a  preacher  who  himself  never  seemed  overpoweringly 


23o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

moved.  .  .  .  He  stood  impassive,  almost  statuesque  in  imper- 
turbable tranquillity,  rattling  off  in  a  monotone,  so  swiftly  as 
to  tease  and  half  baffle  the  most  watchful  ear,  swallow  flights  of 
thought,  feeling,  poetry,  philosophy,  piety,  biblical  learning, 
sociological  wisdom,  trenchant  criticism, — in  no  syllogistic  order 
or  sequence,  but  plainly  the  legitimate  fruition  of  his  theme, 
held  together  by  a  blood  tie  of  spiritual  significance;  striding, 
lifting  along  through  the  spaces  and  reaches  of  the  inner  world, 
until  the  great  throngs,  in  painful,  half-breathed,  eager  silence, 
seemed  beside  themselves  with  a  preternatural  ecstasy. 

"It  was  something  like  the  glamour  of  a  flying  panorama,  hour 
after  hour  in  railway  travel;  or  a  deep  reverie  over  the  Divina 
Commedia,  or  in  the  grand  Duomo  itself;  and  yet  unlike  anything 
else  having  the  touch  of  human  artificer.  It  was  not  the  half 
mesmeric  spell  of  the  mystic  and  priest,  nor  the  fascination  of  an 
artist  with  an  irresistible  technique  and  magnetic  individuality. 
There  were  no  lightning  strokes,  no  stimulating  climacterics,  no 
passage  of  stirring  discords  in  harmonic  resolution  of  transcen- 
dental loveliness  or  grandeur;  and  yet  there  was  never  for  a 
minute  any  let-up  or  rallying-place  found  for  the  strained  and 
eager  sensibility  until  the  last  page  was  turned  and  the  benedic- 
tion said.  Thousands  will  recognize  the  truth  of  this  reminis- 
cence stretching  through  many  years,  and  identify  this  early 
mystification  and  bewilderment  which  half  hid  the  young 
preacher  from  the  people." 


CHAPTER  X. 
1869-1872. 

TRINITY  CHURCH.  THE  RECEPTION  IN  BOSTON.  CON- 
TEMPORANEOUS COMMENTS.  RECORD  OF  WORK. 
EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRESPONDENCE  AND  FROM 
NOTE-BOOKS.  SOCIAL  LIFE.  THE  SUMMER  IN 
EUROPE.  FORMATION  OF  THE  CLERICUS  CLUB. 
DESTRUCTION  OF  TRINITY  CHURCH  IN  THE  BOS- 
TON   FIRE. 

Phillips  Brooks  began  his  ministry  in  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  on  Sunday,  October  31,  preaching  in  the  morning 
from  the  text,  St.  John  ix.,  4,  5:  "I  must  work  the  works  of 
Him  that  sent  me,  while  it  is  day:  the  night  cometh,  when  no 
man  can  work";  and  in  the  afternoon  from  St.  John  iv.,  34: 
"My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish 
His  work."  From  this  moment  began  the  long  period  of  twenty- 
two  years  until  he  resigned  his  rectorship. 

The  church  edifice  then  stood  on  Summer  Street,  near  Washing- 
ton Street,  one  of  the  relics  of  an  earlier  Boston  when  Summer 
Street  and  the  adjacent  territory  was  the  scene  of  residences 
with  their  ample  gardens.  The  church  had  been  built  in  1829, 
and  was  regarded  as  a  noble  building  in  its  day,  equalled  by  few 
in  dignity  and  calm  impressiveness.  It  was  the  centre  and 
home  of  Episcopal  traditions  and  prestige,  its  organization  dating 
from  the  year  1729.  During  the  trying  days  of  the  Revolution 
it  had  remained  open  to  its  worshippers  when  most  of  the  Epis- 
copal churches  were  closed.  When  the  alternatives  had  been 
presented  of  closing  its  doors  or  of  omitting  the  petition,  in  the 
Litany,  for  King  George  and  all  the  royal  family,  it  had  chosen 
the  latter  with  the  hope  that  it  would  be  "more  for  the  interest 
and  cause  of  Episcopacy,  and  the  least  evil  of  the  two,  to  omit  a 

231 


232  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

part  of  the  Litany  than  to  shut  up  the  church."  It  shows  the 
tenacity  of  the  corporate  life  of  the  church,  that  many  of  its 
worshippers  were  descendants  of  the  families  who  first  consti- 
tuted it. 

The  new  rector  brought  with  him  the  traditions  of  the  Evan- 
gelical school  which  he  had  put  into  successful  practice  in  Phila- 
delphia,— the  Wednesday  evening  lecture,  the  Saturday  evening 
Bible  class,  and  the  communicants'  meeting  in  preparation  for 
the  Lord's  Supper.  Wednesday  evening  became  a  sacred  oc- 
casion. One  of  the  first  fruits  of  his  ministry  in  Boston  was 
to  find  the  chapel  of  Trinity  Church  too  small  for  the  purpose, 
and  calling  for  an  immediate  enlargement.  But  this  did  not  meet 
the  need,  and  the  service  was  transferred  to  the  church,  where 
every  seat  was  occupied. 

Among  the  arrangements  projected  at  once  for  increasing 
the  activity  of  the  parish  was  a  mission  on  West  Cedar  Street, 
where  a  Sunday  school  was  gathered.  There  was  at  this  time  an 
Episcopal  Church,  St.  Mark's,  on  West  Newton  Street,  which, 
having  fallen  into  weakness  on  account  of  the  changing  popu- 
lation, was  no  longer  able  to  maintain  a  rector.  This  church 
edifice  was  purchased  at  his  suggestion  and  became  a  depen- 
dency of  Trinity  Church,  and  the  income  of  the  Greene  Founda- 
tion was  devoted  to  the  support  of  its  minister. 

Another  scheme,  broached  to  the  parish  during  the  first  year 
of  his  incumbency,  was  the  removal  of  the  church  to  another 
part  of  the  city,  where  it  could  do  a  greater  work  and 
better  meet  the  needs  of  its  parishioners.  On  this  scheme 
he  concentrated  his  energies.  He  was  studying  the  city 
of  Boston  and  the  possible  directions  of  its  growth,  in  order 
to  secure  the  most  available  site.  Permission  to  sell  having  been 
granted  by  the  Legislature,  and  accepted  by  the  proprietors  of 
Trinity  Church,  after  much  deliberation  the  new  site  was  deter- 
mined on,  and  by  the  close  of  1871  the  lot  was  purchased  on 
which  the  present  Trinity  Church  now  stands.  The  late  Mr. 
H.  H.  Richardson  was  chosen  as  the  architect.  The  building 
committee  were  at  once  impressed  with  the  importance  of 
purchasing  the  triangle  of  land  which  now  forms  the  whole 
Huntington  Avenue  front  of  the  estate.  The  church  thus 
completed  its  title  to  the  whole  domain  of  over  an  acre,  en- 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        233 

closed  by  four  public  streets,  and  making  the  church  visible  in 
all  directions. 

When  Phillips  Brooks  came  to  Boston  it  became  his  purpose, 
as  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  to  carry  out  the  ideal  of  a  parish 
minister  in  all  its  scope  and  in  all  the  detail  of  its  rela- 
tionships. In  Philadelphia  he  had  appeared  as  a  reformer, 
with  a  work  to  do  outside  the  pulpit,  which  rivalled  in 
importance  and  popular  interest  his  work  as  a  preacher. 
After  he  came  to  Boston  he  ceased  to  be  identified  with  any 
special  reform.  He  was  still  interested  in  efforts  aiming  at 
human  improvement.  His  interest  was  recognized  and  pre- 
supposed. He  never  failed  when  he  was  called  upon  to 
advocate  any  good  cause.  He  sympathized  with  those 
who  devoted  their  lives  to  such  ends.  On  occasions  in  his 
own  pulpit,  and  especially  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  he  uttered 
himself  freely  on  the  questions  of  the  hour.  But  he  did  not 
identify  himself  exclusively  with  any  of  them,  nor  work  for 
them  in  direct  manner.  Of  all  the  cities  in  the  land,  Boston 
more  than  any  other  was  associated  with  ideas,  issues,  and  moral 
reforms.  It  puzzled  Boston  people,  therefore,  when  Phillips 
Brooks  came  among  them  and  began  at  once  to  exert  his  magic 
influence.  They  found  it  impossible  to  label  or  classify  him. 
He  was  neither  a  moral,  a  social,  nor  a  religious  reformer.  It 
is  interesting  now  to  look  back  at  the  efforts  made  to  define  his 
position  by  critical  analysis,  or  by  comparison  with  other  men. 
Boston  at  last  accepted  him  for  himself.  But  in  the  earlier 
years  it  was  not  so. 

At  first  there  was  an  inclination  on  the  part  of  the  Unitarians 
to  claim  him  as  their  own,  as  one  who,  though  he  might  not  be 
conscious  of  it,  must  be  at  heart  a  Unitarian.  They  were  un- 
familiar with  the  breadth  of  the  national  Church  of  England, 
as  illustrated  by  Maurice  and  Stanley  and  Arnold,  Kingsley, 
Robertson,  Thirlwall,  and  Tait  and  Temple,  who  represented 
liberal  theology  in  the  English  Church,  with  whom  Phillips 
Brooks  was  affiliated  in  spirit,  and  at  whose  feet  he  had  sat  as 
a  pupil.  Archbishop  Tillotson  and  the  liberal  theologians  of 
the  English  Church  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries 
had  long  since  been  forgotten.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  that 
such  a  spirit  was  indigenous  in  the  Anglican  Church,  having  its 


234  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

roots  in  the  Reformation  and  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 
However  it  was,  the  Unitarians  nocked  to  the  new  preacher. 
Against  this  disposition  on  the  part  of  Unitarians  to  "attend  the 
earnest  and  attractive  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks,"  the  Liberal 
Christian,  a  Unitarian  organ  in  Boston,  gave  a  most  emphatic 
protest.  The  editor  of  the  Christian  Register  (Unitarian)  went 
to  hear  him,  and  detected  in  his  sermon  "the  devious  ways  of 
theological  subtleties,"  but  also  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
was  "as  rational  and  independent  as  an  honest  man  can  possibly 
be  while  remaining  within  the  Episcopal  Church."  On  this 
verdict,  the  Congregationalist,  an  orthodox  paper,  congratu- 
lated Mr.  Brooks  that  he  might  now  "take  heart  and  dismiss 
his  fears."  On  the  other  hand,  one  of  the  stricter  sort  of  the 
orthodox  who  went  to  hear  him  complained,  that  "he  did  what 
too  many  orthodox  ministers  do  in  this  region, — threw  out  a 
sop  to  the  Unitarians";  and  also  showed  his  inability  for  theo- 
logical subtleties  by  denying  the  doctrine  of  total  depravity. 

The  following  testimonies  illustrate  other  differences  of 
opinion : 

"Writing  from  an  'orthodox'  standpoint,  your  correspondent 
may  be  pardoned  for  expressing  the  joy  he  felt  that  Puritan  truth 
is  the  doctrine  of  the  preacher  now  most  admired  and  sought 
after  in  degenerate  Boston.  It  was  most  refreshing  and  hope- 
inspiring  to  hear  him." 

"It  is  this  compound  of  Broad  Church  liberality  and  absolute 
fixedness  and  certainty  as  to  points  of  belief  and  faith  that  ac- 
counts for  Mr.  Brooks's  wide  influence  in  the  community." 

".  .  .  It  is  a  significant  fact  that  Harvard,  which  has  been 
so  eminent  for  the  cautious  accuracy,  careful  elegance,  and 
dainty  reserve  of  its  orators,  should  have  sent  such  an  unusual 
representative  into  the  pulpit,  and  that  her  representative 
preacher  now  is  this  stalwart  Broad  Churchman,  who  preaches 
the  humanity  of  Channing  with  the  creed  of  Jeremy  Taylor, 
and  strikes  at  the  shirks  and  shams  of  our  day  with  the  dashing 
pluck  and  the  full  blood  of  Martin  Luther." 

"Here  and  there  you  will  find  one  who  thinks  that  the  Uni- 
tarians get  a  little  more  comfort  out  of  his  preaching  than  he 
ought  to  give  them.  But  there  is  reason  for  the  remark  that 
such  suspicions  are  mostly  confined  to  those  who  seldom  hear 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        235 

his  sermons,  if  in  some  instances  they  are  not  unaccompanied 
with  what  is  very  near  akin  to  a  professional  jealousy.  I  have 
never  heard  but  one  opinion  from  those  qualified  by  knowledge 
and  impartiality  to  judge,  and  that  is  that  the  current  of  his 
preaching  is  strongly  and  warmly  Evangelical." 

"He  has  a  certain  great-heartedness,  and  a  passionate,  irre- 
pressible desire  to  bring  others  to  the  Saviour  whom  he  finds 
so  precious  that  people  of  all  shades  of  belief,  and  no  belief,  are 
carried  along,  for  the  time  at  least,  by  the  same  enthusiasm  that 
seems  to  possess  him.  Out  of  twenty  or  more  of  his  sermons 
which  we  have  heard,  there  has  not  been  one  which  would  have 
been  unsuitable  for  a  revival  meeting.  Whatever  the  subject/ 
the  central  thought  is  always  the  cross  of  Christ — the  goodness 
of  the  gospel  to  a  sinful  soul." 

These  things  recall  the  Boston  of  colonial  days,  where, 
when  a  stranger  entered  its  precincts,  before  he  could  be  ac- 
cepted, he  was  questioned  and  made  to  give  an  account  of  him- 
self. The  inquiring  looks  now  directed  upon  the  new  preacher, 
the  criticism  to  which  he  was  subjected,  were  the  Boston  greet- 
ing. Philadelphia  had  a  different  way.  It  had  not  the  suspi- 
cion of  the  stranger  as  such.  It  knew  a  good  thing  when  it  saw 
it,  and  did  not  spoil  its  enjoyment  by  over-anxious  question- 
ing. It  was  not  perhaps  so  easy  a  thing  for  Boston  to  bow  be- 
fore Phillips  Brooks  as  it  had  been  for  Philadelphia. 

The  popular  verdict  on  the  preaching  of  Phillips  Brooks  was 
more  important  than  the  judgment  of  the  critics.  He  stepped 
at  once  into  the  same  relative  position  he  had  held  in  Philadel- 
phia. Trinity  Church  on  Summer  Street  was  crowded  with  eager 
hearers.  It  was  almost  unseemly  the  way  in  which  the  people 
claimed  him,  regardless  of  the  privileges  of  those  whose  special 
minister  he  was.  Precedents  and  vested  rights,  distinctions  of 
pewholders,  the  authority  of  the  sexton,  seemed  like  an  imperti- 
nence when  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  preach.  It  was  a  trying  sit- 
uation for  the  parishioners,  accustomed  to  associate  worship  with 
calmness  and  dignity,  and  with  ample  accommodation  in  the 
high-backed  pews.  It  was  no  slight  annoyance  when  they  sought 
access  to  their  pews  to  find  them  occupied  by  strangers,  whose 
apologies  magnified  the  grievance.  Mr.  Dillon,  the  sexton,  strove 
to  rise  to  an  emergency  wholly  unlike  anything  he  had  hitherto 
known  in  his  long  administration.     He  tried  to  sort  the  people 


236  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

who  presented  themselves  for  admission,  sending  some  to  the 
galleries,  and  allowing  others,  whom  he  judged  more  fit,  to  oc- 
cupy the  waste  spaces  in  the  pews  on  the  floor,  but  his  expe- 
dients were  futile.1  The  people  became  indignant  and  vented 
their  anger  on  "the  grim  and  truculent  sexton,  who  acted  as  if 
he  owned  the  church."  Complaints  found  their  way  to  the  news- 
papers, with  accounts  of  the  "most  disgraceful  scenes  ever  en- 
acted within  the  walls  of  a  Protestant  church."  Many  who  came 
were  unfamiliar  with  the  ways  of  the  Episcopal  Church;  they 
regarded  the  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer  as  "introductory  exer- 
cises" before  the  sermon  could  be  reached.  They  rejoiced  at 
least  that  "Mr.  Brooks  ran  it  off  so  rapidly."  Mr.  Brooks  did 
what  he  could  to  facilitate  matters.  The  pews  in  the  galleries 
were  declared  free,  and  after  pewholders  had  taken  their  seats 
the  church  was  thrown  open  to  all.  But  this  was  no  temporary 
evil  to  be  cured  by  any  expedient.  It  lasted  as  long  as  Phillips 
Brooks  remained  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church.  Bishop  East- 
burn  continued  for  a  while  to  attend  the  services  at  Trinity.  But 
he  was  not  accustomed  to  see  people  flocking  in  crowds  to  the 
proclamation  of  the  gospel.  He  was  not  altogether  sure  that  the 
new  preacher  was  "sound  in  his  views,"  and  he  betook  himself 
to  the  roomier  spaces  of  St.  Paul's. 

The  many  descriptions  of  Phillips  Brooks  and  of  his  preaching, 
when  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  Boston,  it  is  impossible  to 
reproduce,  but  at  least  reference  should  be  made  to  them.  The 
time  never  came  when  people  tired  of  portraying  him  or  of 
writing  their  impressions.  Those  who  wrote  were  not  more  eager 
to  rehearse  than  were  the  thousands  who  had  not  heard  or  seen 
for  themselves  eager  to  read  what  was  written.  It  is  part  of  the 
story  of  his  life  to  give  him  in  his  relations  with  the  great  body  of 
people  who  were  sure  that  something  unknown  before  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  pulpit  was  now  enacting,  and  that  it  behooved  them 
to  catch  and  preserve  each  slightest  accent,  as  a  sacred  responsi- 
bility.    They  described  his  appearance  as  though  in  this  case  the 

1  In  Mr.  Dillon's  view  of  the  situation,  the  end  to  be  aimed  at  was  to 
reduce  the  numbers  who  sought  admittance  to  the  church.  "He  once 
came  to  me  in  the  vestry  room,"  said  Mr.  Brooks,  "to  tell  me  of  a  method 
he  had  devised  for  this  purpose,  '  When  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman 
come  together,  I  separate  them';  and  he  expected  me  to  approve  the 
fiendish  plan." 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        237 

symmetry  of  form  and  beauty  of  countenance  were  in  some  mys- 
terious way  the  counterpart  of  the  spirit  within.  Each  slightest 
peculiarity  in  his  manner  or  bearing — in  his  dress,  or  his  attitude 
in  the  pulpit,  the  quality  of  his  voice,  the  glance  of  his  eye — was 
noted  and  commented  on.  All  alike  were  agreed  as  to  the  avoid- 
ance in  his  preaching  of  anything  like  sensationalism.  There 
was  no  effort  to  arrest  or  to  hold  attention,  no  tricks  or  artifices 
to  produce  effect,  no  attempt  whatever  to  be  impressive ;  indeed 
according  to  ordinary  rules  of  rhetoric  or  oratory  he  ought  to 
have  made  no  impression,  for  he  defied  them  and  set  them  at 
nought.  Of  his  reading  of  the  service  it  was  noted  that  it  was 
with  "a  rapid,  breathless,  almost  stuttering  delivery,  and  yet 
with  a  certain  impulsive  and  pleading  earnestness." 

Where  was  the  secret  of  his  power,  the  hiding  of  his  strength  ? 
Those  who  describe  or  comment  answer  the  question  in  various 
ways.  Some  thought  that  he  had  no  remarkable  qualities  of 
voice  or  elocution  or  gesture,  others  felt  in  his  voice  a  wonderful 
force  of  appeal.  All  admired  and  praised  his  literary  merit,  the 
grace  of  his  style,  the  beauty  of  his  sentences.  But  the  power  of 
the  man  did  not  lie  in  things  like  these.  "His  power  consists  in 
his  simplicity,"  said  one,  "in  his  earnestness  and  strength,  exhib- 
ited in  the  expression  of  a  theology  free  from  the  narrowness  and 
technicalities  of  those  dogmatic  schemes  which  make  religion 
ridiculous  and  weigh  it  down."  Another  said :  "  Of  course  he  has 
a  fine  intellect,  but  it  is  the  warm,  earnest  heart  guiding  the  intel- 
lect that  gives  him  such  influence  over  his  hearers."  Still 
another:  "He  knows  what  is  in  us  all.  He  speaks  out  of  the 
common  experience  and  comes  right  to  the  heart  of  men." 
And  again  thought  another: 

"His  secret  does  not  lie  in  his  thought  or  his  style;  not  in  his 
utterance,  which  is  rapid  almost  to  incoherency,  and  marred  by 
an  awkward  habit  of  misreading  his  writing;  but  in  his  evident 
honesty  of  conviction,  sincerity  of  purpose,  and  earnestness  of 
desire, — he  does  not  think  of  himself  or  of  the  impression  he  is 
making;  also,  in  that  he  approaches  men  on  the  side  of  their  hope- 
fulness. He  is  a  man  of  exceptionally  intellectual  abilities,  but 
the  moral  qualities  are  so  obvious  and  forceful  as  to  make  the 
other  seem  secondary." 

The  secret  of  his  strength  may  baffle,  but  of  the  effect  he 
wrought  there  could  be  no  doubt : 


238  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"His  power  is  what  no  one  less  gifted  than  he  can  describe  to 
another  who  has  not  felt  it.  It  seems  to  come  from  a  deep,  per- 
sonal experience  which  gives  his  message  authority.  When  he 
preaches  you  are  carried  away  to  the  need  of  men  and  your 
own  shortcomings,  and  have  no  present  consciousness  of  the  per- 
sonality of  the  speaker.  A  transparent  medium  is  the  purest. 
You  do  not  think  of  Phillips  Brooks  till  Phillips  Brooks  gets 
through  with  his  subject." 

"As  he  [the  preacher]  is  lifted  by  his  theme  into  a  rarefied 
atmosphere,  and  with  a  marvellous  faith  catches  a  glimpse  of  still 
higher  summits  to  be  reached,  like  a  mountain  climber,  scaling 
from  crag  to  crag,  you  are  rapidly  borne  along  with  him,  till  the 
worries  of  earth  look  very  trifling  from  the  crest  where  he  pauses." 

"When  he  reaches  his  sermon  and  plunges  into  his  subject,  as 
if  it  were  a  message  from  heaven,  delivered  for  the  first  time  to 
mortals,  so  fresh  and  earnest  it  is  that  the  real  height  of  the  man's 
power  is  reached." 

"  The  power  of  the  man  lies  in  the  fulness  of  his  nature, 
his  thought,  his  affections,  his  purpose,  and  his  speech. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  him,  and  he  lets  himself  out  without  re- 
serve, without  affectation,  without  conceit,  without  meanness. 
His  sermon  flows  from  its  large  fountain  head  in  full,  continuous 
course,  now  in  easy  talk,  and  now  in  swelling  volume,  and  now 
in  dashing  force,  until  it  pours  into  the  open  sea  under  the  eternal 
heaven,  and  carries  you  on  its  grand  tide  to  its  glorious  vision." 

The  following  account  by  a  person  belonging  to  another  relig- 
ious communion  who  attended  the  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks  for 
several  months,  betrays  a  most  intelligent  observer,  and  is  among 
the  most  successful  attempts  to  analyze  the  impression  he  made : 

"Of  three  points  which  make  this  ministry  especially  attrac- 
tive we  notice,  first,  an  extraordinary  mental  clearness  and 
precision,  which  make  every  word  aid  in  guiding  the  hearer 
straight  to  the  point  intended;  which  admits  no  redundance  in 
its  beautiful  and  finished  expression,  and,  in  its  most  glowing 
imagery  and  felicitous  illustration,  never  gives  the  idea  of 
external  ornamentation,  but  rather  deepens  the  impression  of  the 
truth  to  be  conveyed  as  by  the  exposition  of  a  purely  natural 
analogy  or  pre-existing  correspondence  between  things  divine 
and  human.  And  secondly,  we  are  impressed  by  its  rare  per- 
suasiveness,— a  power  of  taking  for  granted  assent,  which  almost 
compels  it,  an  emphasis  laid  on  points  of  agreement,  rather  than 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        239 

on  those  of  difference, — so  that  we  find  ourselves  addressed 
from  the  broad  ground  of  a  common  humanity  rather  than  from 
the  narrow  platform  of  doctrinal  distinctions,  and  are  led  to 
recognize  the  central  truths  which  underlie  and  comprehend  all 
our  diversities  of  opinion.  But  once  more,  and  including  all  the 
rest,  we  find  in  this  preaching  a  depth  of  thought  and  purpose, 
a  scorching  analysis  of  character  and  motive,  that  cuts  clean 
through  the  crust  of  conventionalism  (whether  of  worldliness 
or  religion),  and  takes  us  to  those  depths  (shall  we  say?)  or 
lifts  us  to  those  heights  where  we  are  set  face  to  face  with  eternal 
realities,  in  whose  sight  the  poor  routine  of  our  daily  life  is  trans- 
figured with  new  hope,  made  quick  with  grateful  impulse  and 
weighty  with  sacred  meaning." 

These  testimonies  belong  to  the  first  years  of  Phillips  Brooks's 
ministry  in  the  old  Trinity  Church  on  Summer  Street,  while 
he  was  making  the  conquest  of  Boston.  They  may  suffice  to 
show  how  the  city  was  moved  at  his  coming.  Those  were 
wisest  who  accepted  the  situation  as  inevitable,  recognizing  that 
some  phenomenal  power  was  in  evidence;  something  that  was 
real  and  abiding,  and  as  deep  and  mysterious  as  the  mystery 
of  life  in  this  world.  Still,  it  was  a  disturbing  experience  in 
all  the  churches.  The  large  congregations  were  made  up  of  all 
classes  of  people. 

"The  packed  congregations  of  old  Trinity  [says  one]  repre- 
sent the  best  intellect,  the  most  cultivated  minds,  as  well  as 
the  richest  families  in  Boston." 

"It  is  pleasant  [says  another]  to  see  Phillips  Brooks's  audience 
and  to  analyze  it.  I  had  expected  that  it  was  exclusively  of  the 
more  educated  classes,  but  it  is  not;  from  the  place  where  I  sat 
last  Sunday  evening  I  could  pick  out  easily  enough  the  sewing 
girls,  the  Boston  clerks,  the  men  of  leisure  and  of  study,  the  poor 
old  women  with  their  worn  and  pinched  and  faded,  but  thought- 
ful, earnest  faces;  and  it  was  a  dear  sight,  all  those  classes  and 
conditions  of  men  riveted  to  the  countenance  of  Phillips  Brooks 
and  hanging  on  his  lips." 

There  had  been  some  current  rumors  that  Mr.  Brooks  was 
dissatisfied  in  his  new  sphere,  as  there  were  also  expectations  in 
Philadelphia  that  he  might  return.  But  in  1872  it  had  become 
clear  that  he  was  finally  identified  with  the  city  of  his  birth. 


24o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  Phillips  Brooks  has  found  his  true 
sphere  in  Boston,  and  those  fond  souls  that  dream  of  his  return 
to  Philadelphia,  disappointed  with  his  success  here,  may  safely 
put  away  that  delusive  hope.  He  has  not  been  long  in  Boston, 
but  Boston  knows  how  to  improve  her  own  advantages,  and 
Phillips  Brooks  is  already  a  household  deity  in  her  complacent 
pantheon.  Harvard  has  taken  him  under  her  wing,  and  he  is 
already  one  of  her  magnates.  Boston,  secular  Boston,  quotes 
him  familiarly  and  scarcely  remembers  that  he  ever  lived  out  of 
sight  of  Bunker  Hill.  Philadelphia  appreciated  and  valued  him. 
Boston  appropriates  and  canonizes  him,  and  there  is  only  one 
thing  that  Boston  will  never  do  with  him,  and  that  is  to  spoil 
him  as  an  honest,  earnest,  fearless  minister  and  man." 

It  had  also  become  clear  that  he  was  not  to  be  "Church-  or 
city- limited,"  that  he  could  not  be  shut  in  by  any  lines.  He 
was  claimed  as  belonging  to  the  Church  at  large.  In  the  city 
and  in  the  suburbs  he  preached  in  churches  of  every  name. 
Three  times  on  every  Sunday  he  preached  as  a  rule,  and  as  there 
were  not  Sundays  enough  to  go  around  he  preached  on  week- 
day evenings,  and  whenever  he  preached  it  was  the  event  of  the 
moment.  On  the  third  Sunday  evening  in  January,  1870,  he 
preached  for  the  first  time  in  St.  John's  Chapel,  belonging  to 
the  Episcopal  Theological  School,  a  memorable  occasion,  for  it 
was  the  beginning  of  a  practice  to  be  continued  full  seven  years 
before  it  came  to  an  end.  On  the  third  Sunday  evening  in 
every  month,  during  all  this  time,  he  was  to  be  found  in  the  pulpit 
of  the  chapel,  till  his  regular  appearance  became  a  feature  of 
Cambridge  life.  From  the  first  Sunday  that  he  preached  till 
the  last,  the  chapel  was  densely  packed,  the  congregation  ac- 
commodating themselves  in  the  spaces  allotted  to  the  clergy, 
around  and  beneath  the  pulpit,  and  during  the  sermon  the 
doorways  were  thronged  with  hearers.  Long  before  the  service 
began  people  were  to  be  seen  wending  their  way  toward  Brattle 
Street,  willing  to  wait  an  hour  in  the  church  to  secure  their  seats. 
The  congregation  was  composed  of  those  who  profess  and  call 
themselves  Christians  and  of  those  who  do  not.  Professors 
and  students  of  Harvard  College  availed  themselves  of  the  op- 
portunity in  large  numbers.  The  spectacle  was  an  inspiring 
one  at  Trinity  Church  in  Boston,  but  not  more  inspiring  or  sig- 
nificant than  that  which  the  seat  of  Harvard  University  afforded. 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        241 

This  was  the  first  approach  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  the  stu- 
dents of  Harvard  College.  He  did  not  preach  in  Appleton 
Chapel  until  1873.  ^n  the  meantime,  from  1870,  he  took  a 
Bible  class  in  the  college,  composed  mostly  of  members  of  the 
St.  Paul's  Society. 

Quite  as  striking  was  his  recognition  in  secular  Boston.  He 
rose  quickly  to  the  place  of  a  foremost  citizen  whose  presence  at 
every  civic  function  seemed  indispensable  to  its  completeness. 
On  such  occasions  he  took  his  part  with  dignity  and  gravity, 
yet  never  without  the  sense  of  amusing  incongruity  in  the  formal 
association  with  distinguished  citizens  to  whom  as  a  boy  in 
Boston  he  had  been  accustomed  to  look  up  with  reverence. 
In  February,  1871,  he  was  present  at  a  meeting  in  Music  Hall, 
whose  aim  was  to  awaken  public  interest  in  the  erection  of  a 
museum  of  fine  arts.  A  distinguished  array  of  leading  citizens 
occupied  seats  upon  the  platform;  among  the  speakers  were 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  and  Edward  Everett  Hale. 

"  Mr.  Brooks  in  his  remarks  maintained  that  this  was  a  thing  of 
the  people  and  for  the  people.  There  was  a  certain  hardness  and 
want  of  development  in  American  character  on  its  aesthetic  side ; 
an  art  museum  would  awaken  those  large  ideas  of  life  and  nature 
which  nothing  but  the  art  feeling  can  awake, — a  boundless 
good,  the  new  feeling  of  unworldliness.  The  passion  of  our 
people  to  go  abroad,  when  we  have  so  much  natural  beauty  at 
home,  was  not  strange;  man  needs  man's  as  well  as  nature's  work, 
and  hence  Americans  flock  to  the  galleries  of  the  Old  World. 
He  spoke  of  what  he  gained  as  a  Boston  boy  in  the  Latin  School 
out  of  the  old  room  which  contained  the  wonderful  casts  of 
Laocoon  and  Apollo.  He  thought  that  an  art  museum  would 
help  every  minister  in  Boston  in  the  effort  to  lift  the  people 
crushed  by  the  dead  weight  of  worldliness  to  higher  things. 
He  spoke  [says  the  reporter]  with  more  than  his  usual  earnest- 
ness and  eloquence,  and  was  frequently  applauded." 

He  was  present  as  chaplain  at  the  third  reunion  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  in  187 1.  In  introducing  Mr.  Brooks,  General 
Meade  spoke  of  the  eminent  services  he  had  rendered  during  the 
war,  not  only  by  his  eloquence  in  the  pulpit,  but  by  his  ministra- 
tions in  the  hospitals  to  the  sick  and  dying.  He  attended  a 
large  meeting  at  Music  Hall  in  commemoration  of  Italian  unity, 
and  spoke.     He  was  the  chaplain  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument 


242  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Association  at  its  meeting  on  June  17,  1871,  and  in  the  fall  of 
this  year  he  made  the  prayer  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone 
of  Memorial  Hall  of  Harvard  University.  When  the  Grand 
Duke  Alexis  visited  Boston  in  1872,  the  festivities  were  con- 
cluded with  a  banquet  at  the  Revere  House,  at  which  Hon.  Rob- 
ert C.  Winthrop  presided,  who  introduced  Mr.  Brooks  as  already 
a  power  in  the  community.  Mr.  Brooks,  in  his  remarks,  dwelt 
on  this  feature  in  Russian  history,  that  all  Russian  life  and  gov- 
ernment were  everywhere  pervaded  with  religion, — a  religion 
different  from  ours,  which  had  yet  a  great  work  to  do  in  the 
world.  He  described  the  growth  of  the  Grseco-Russian  Church, 
claiming  that  the  great  work  it  had  done  for  civilization  should 
be  recognized. 

In  1872  he  preached  the  sermon  before  the  Ancient  and 
Honorable  Artillery  Company  at  its  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
fourth  anniversary.  The  sermon,  afterwards  published,  was 
a  notable  one,  from  the  text  in  Revelation  xii.  7 :  "And  there  was 
war  in  heaven."     Among  the  striking  passages  was  this: 

"Force  has  a  divine  mission.  It  was  not  to  be  invoked  save 
for  divine  tasks,  never  for  the  mere  brutalities  of  selfishness,  or 
ambition,  or  jealousy,  or  worldly  rage,  or  for  the  mere  punctilios 
of  national  dignity.  So  far  as  war  had  justification  in  a  princi- 
ple it  was  this, — that  what  men  think  and  what  men  feel  should 
incorporate  itself  in  action.  The  late  civil  war  was  not  the  man- 
ifestation of  the  military  passion,  but  the  passion  of  civil  life, 
the  passion  of  home,  the  passion  of  education,  the  passion  of  reli- 
gion. It  was  not  war  but  peace  that  fought,  strange  as  the  para- 
dox may  seem.  This  was  the  claim  by  which  our  republic  may, 
with  no  unreasonable  pride,  boast  to  stand  among  nations  as 
Washington  among  men,  first  in  war,  first  in  peace ;  first  in  war 
because  first  in  peace." 

At  the  Peace  Jubilee,  Boston  commemorated  in  1872  the  reign 
of  universal  peace  by  erecting  a  large  temporary  edifice  known 
as  the  Coliseum.  The  music  was  furnished  by  a  choir  consisting 
of  several  thousands  of  voices,  with  a  correspondingly  large 
orchestra.  At  the  formal  opening  Phillips  Brooks  was  invited 
to  make  the  prayer. 

There  were  opportunities,  however,  to  take  part  in  civic 
solemnities  which  he  declined.  Such  was  the  invitation  by 
the  city  of  Boston  to  deliver  the  oration  on  the  Fourth  of  July 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON       243 

in  1 87 1.  He  drew  a  distinction  between  the  sermon  and  the 
oration  or  lecture.  He  had  come  to  some  resolution  to  abide 
by  the  limitations  of  the  pulpit,  if  limitations  they  were.  It 
would  have  been  easy  at  this  moment  for  him  to  have  been 
drawn  into  lines  of  literary  activity.  He  was  received  in  literary 
circles  in  Boston  as  one  of  their  own  number.  But  when  he  was 
urged  by  the  editor  to  write  articles  for  The  Atlantic  Monthly, 
the  invitation  was  declined. 

Amidst  many  appeals  to  his  sympathy  the  cause  of  children 
and  of  young  people  was  most  near  his  heart.  The  two  organi- 
zations of  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Union  and  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association  possessed  him  as  if  he  were  their  own. 
These  are  included  in  the  educational  institutions  with  which 
from  the  first,  and  in  later  years,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  identi- 
fied as  he  did  with  no  other  cause.  From  the  time  he  came  to 
Boston  he  proved  the  teachers'  ally  and  friend,  and  there  was  a 
spontaneity  in  the  action  of  educational  institutions  which 
sought  his  aid.  In  1870  he  was  elected  an  overseer  of  Harvard 
College.  In  1871  he  was  appointed  on  the  State  Board  of  Edu- 
cation, in  which  capacity  he  visited  annually  the  normal  schools 
of  Massachusetts.  He  went  to  various  academies,  colleges,  and 
schools  to  make  addresses.  As  an  overseer  at  Harvard,  he  was 
one  of  the  Board  of  Visitors  at  the  Harvard  Divinity  School. 
He  soon  came  into  close  relations  with  the  Episcopal  Theological 
School  in  Cambridge.  He  retained  his  position  as  a  trustee  of 
the  Philadelphia  Divinity  School,  and  in  1870  he  went  to  Phila- 
delphia to  preach  before  its  alumni.  To  these  many  addresses 
he  brought  careful  and  elaborate  preparation.  He  was 
maturing  his  distinctive  principle,  afterwards  to  appear  in 
books  in  more  impressive  and  final  form;  asking  himself  the 
fundamental  question  of  his  own  youthful  preparation,  How 
is  the  power  to  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  will  ?  The  question 
of  education  was  only  in  another  form  the  problem  of  the  pulpit. 
Thus  in  one  of  his  note-books  he  gives  hints  of  the  thoughts 
passing  through  his  mind : 

"The  whole  educational  idea  needs  revision  and  is  getting  it. 
All  these  years  there  have  been  a  few  influences  called  education, 
but  others  have  been  doing  a  large  part  of  the  work.  The  man 
at  thirty — what  has  made  him  what  he  is  ?     Now  these  are  things 


244  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

claiming  recognition.  The  question  is  how  far  they  can  be 
brought  into  the  methods  of  a  school,  and  how  far  a  general  basis 
can  be  found  common  to  all  trades.  There  is  hope  of  this  to 
some  extent." 

It  took  a  long  time,  however,  before  he  ceased  to  hunger  for 
Philadelphia.  Indeed  he  never  quite  outgrew  his  longing.  Phil- 
adelphia remained  the  city  of  joy  and  beauty ;  it  stood  for  the 
romance  of  his  life,  the  home  of  immortal  youth.  To  his  brother 
Arthur,  who  asked  him  as  the  year  1869  was  closing  whether  he 
was  satisfied  that  he  had  done  right  in  coming  to  Boston,  he  an- 
swered that  he  would  prefer  to  wait  and  tell  him  at  the  end  of 
another  year.  Three  times  within  his  first  three  months  in 
Boston  he  visited  Philadelphia.  To  his  friend  Miss  Mitchell  he 
writes : 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  dreadfully  jealous  of  any  one  who  steps 
into  my  place  at  Holy  Trinity  in  spite  of  my  great  desire  to  see 
it  filled,  which  is  very  unreasonable  and  womanly  in  me  of  course, 
but  natural.  I  am  seeing  my  people  and  like  them  very  much 
indeed.  There  are  many  more  young  people  among  them  than  I 
had  supposed.  I  do  not  feel  as  much  as  I  expected  the  embar- 
rassment of  old  associations.  .  .  .  My  visit  was  very  bright  and 
pleasant.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  pleasant  it  is  to  sink  out  of  the 
strain  and  tension  of  this  new  life  into  the  long-tried  friendship 
of  my  few  kind  friends.  Two  weeks  from  to-night  I  shall  be  at 
your  board  again.  Till  then  I  am  impatient.  Christmas  has 
been  as  pleasant  as  strangers  could  make  it. 

"Trinity  is  doing  beautifully,  the  church  is  full,  the  lecture  on 
Wednesday  evenings  is  crowded,  we  are  just  starting  a  mission, 
our  collections  have  doubled  what  they  were,  the  people  have  a 
mind  to  work.  There  is  no  opposition  worth  speaking  of  to  the 
idea  of  a  new  church,  and  we  shall  get  it  very  soon.  If  anybody 
says  that  I  am  disappointed  in  Boston,  tell  them  from  me  it  is 
not  so.  I  knew  just  what  to  expect,  and  I  have  found  just  what 
I  expected.  Last  Sunday  evening  I  preached  for  the  first  time  at 
Cambridge  at  the  new  chapel.  It  was  crowded  mostly  with  stu- 
dents, and  all  went  off  very  well.  I  am  to  go  there  once  a  month." 
(January  20,  1870.) 

"  The  thing  that  dissatisfies  me  most  this  winter  is  the  way  I 
have  had  to  live  and  work.  I  have  read  nothing  for  three 
months,  and,  though  I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  time  indeed,  yet 
three  months  is  a  big  slice  to  take  clean  out  of  one's  life  and  give 
away.     But  things  will  be  better  in  this  respect  by  and  by,  and 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        245 

meanwhile  I  am  getting  a  whole  shelf  full  of  books,  that  I  mean 
to  read  in  that  golden  day  which  is  always  just  ahead  when  I 
have  leisure  enough."     (January  24,  1870.) 

"I  have  undertaken  what  I  expect  to  be  very  much  interested 
in,  a  Bible  class  for  Lent  in  college  at  Cambridge,  where  there  are 
a  good  many  young  men  who  desire  it,  and  who  came  and  asked 
me  for  it.  ...  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  am  depending  on 
my  next  visit  to  Philadelphia.  .  .  ." 

"Have  you  read  Emerson's  new  volume  [Letters  and  Social 
Aims]!  How  delightful  it  is!  I  speak  not  from  the  point  of  a 
Bostonian,  but  with  the  mouth  of  absolute  humanity.  Is  n't 
it  delightful  to  have  a  creature  so  far  outside  of  all  our  ordinary 
toss  and  tumble,  describing  life  as  if  it  were  a  smooth,  intelligible, 
well-oiled  machine,  running  along  without  noise  on  the  planet 
Jupiter,  and  seen  by  him  with  a  special  telescope  and  then  de- 
scribed to  us,  instead  of  being  this  jarring,  jolting,  rattling  old 
coach,  which  almost  drives  us  crazy  with  its  din,  and  won't  be 
greased  into  silence?  It  's  a  capital  calm  book  to  read  at  night 
before  you  go  to  bed,  but  I  don't  think  it  would  go  in  the  morn- 
ing right  after  breakfast,  with  the  day's  work  before  you." 
(March  9,  1870.) 

"Have  you  read  Kent  Stone's  story  [The  Invitation  Heeded]  of 
his  conversion?  As  an  appeal  it  seems  to  me  powerful,  as  an 
argument  weak.  It  may  touch  some  people  strongly.  Poor 
fellow!  there  is  something  dreadfully  sad  in  a  man  telling  himself 
and  the  world  over  and  over  again  that  he  is  happy,  as  he  does 
for  so  many  hundred  pages."     (June  8,  1870.) 

On  June  28  he  sailed  for  Europe,  to  spend  the  summer  in  a 
pedestrian  trip  through  Switzerland  and  the  Tyrol.  He  first 
realized  the  existence  of  war  by  its  interference  with  the  Miracle 
Play  at  Ober-Ammergau.  As  to  the  war,  which  he  regarded  as 
wicked  and  unnecessary,  his  sympathies  were  with  Germany, 
while  France  seemed  to  him  insolent  and  arrogant  beyond  herself. 
One  of  the  chief  drawbacks  he  experienced  in  travelling  was  the 
shortness  of  the  beds.  He  writes  to  Frederick,  "You  and  I  are 
too  long;  you  will  have  an  awful  time  with  the  beds  when  you 
come  into  these  parts."  He  speaks  of  having  escaped  from  bed 
at  an  untimely  hour,  "because  I  could  not  stretch  out  straight  or 
make  the  narrow  bedclothes  come  over  me."  He  was  in  Paris  on 
the  28th  of  August,  having  met  with  no  obstacles  in  getting  there, 


246  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

though  under  constant  apprehension.  The  city  was  still  gay, 
even  when  the  Prussians  were  believed  to  be  only  two  or  three 
days  distant  and  the  memorable  siege  was  impending.  Again  he 
was  in  Paris  on  the  5th  of  September,  "too  busy  and  exciting  a 
day  to  write;  there  was  a  bloodless  revolution,  and  we  went  to  bed 
last  night  under  a  republic.  I  saw  the  whole  thing,  and  was 
much  interested  in  seeing  how  they  make  a  government  here." 
After  his  return  from  Europe  he  writes : 

"I  got  in  New  York  Stanley's  new  volume  of  Essays,  some  of 
which  I  have  seen  before,  but  all  of  which  are  interesting.  There 
is  an  essay  on  the  '  Religion  of  the  Nineteenth  Century '  which  is 
the  best  statement  I  have  seen  of  the  characteristics  and  pros- 
pects of  what  we  call  the  '  Broad  Church '  movement.  Do  read 
it.  Kis  views  about  Church  and  State  I  can't  agree  with,  but 
it  is  the  only  strong  ground  on  which  an  Englishman  can  put 
the  question,  and  for  all  Englishmen  must  have  weight.  What 
capital  English  he  always  writes!"     (October  17,  1870.) 

"I  am  reading  Huxley's  new  Lay  Sermons.  How  clever  it 
is,  how  much  the  man  knows,  and  how  brilliantly  he  writes.  But 
it  is  like  most  "  Small  Books  on  Great  Subjects,"  most  books  for 
the  people  that  popularize  science.  It  is  patronizing  and  mince- 
meaty,  and  he  is  particularly  belligerent  about  the  theologians  in 
a  way  that  does  not  do  credit  to  his  discrimination  or  temper. 
...  It  does  not  seem  as  if  it  could  be  only  a  year  ago  that  I 
preached  my  last  sermon  in  Holy  Trinity,  and  we  all  travelled 
together  to  New  York  the  next  morning.  It  seems  a  half-dozen 
years  at  least.  My  first  year  here  in  Boston  has  been  on  the 
whole  successful.  I  have  done  as  much  with  Trinity  as  I  had  any 
right  to  expect  to  do,  and  we  are  on  a  footing  to  do  more  now. 
But  it  has  not  been  the  pleasant  life  that  the  old  one  was,  and, 
while  there  has  been  much  to  enjoy,  there  has  been  more  anxiety 
and  worry  than  ever  was  of  old.  But  I  dare  say  I  shall  like 
it  better.  Meanwhile  don't  think  I  am  blue."  (November  10, 
1870.) 

"I  don't  feel  theological  this  morning.  It  is  too  near  Christ- 
mas, which  always  upsets  theology  entirely.  I  have  never  been 
able  to  write  a  Christmas  sermon  yet  that  was  in  the  least  a 
theological  satisfaction  to  me  or  anybody  else.  I  am  so  glad 
that  Christmas  is  coming,  and  yet  I  hardly  know  why.  This  is 
the  only  day  whose  associations  have  much  power  over  me.  I 
don't  care  a  great  deal  about  anniversaries,  but  Christmas,  with 
its  whole  spirit,  into  which  we  all  seem  to  slip  so  easily  year  after 
year,  is  exceedingly  beautiful  to  me,  and,  as  I  go  about  the  streets, 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        247 

the  details  in  these  few  days  beforehand,  which  are  vulgar  enough 
in  themselves — men  mounting  up  spruce  boughs  in  churches 
and  men  carrying  home  turkeys  by  the  legs — all  give  me  ever  so 
much  pleasuie.  And  I  like  it  more  and  more  as  I  get  older." 
(December  23,  1870.) 

"The  lecture  Wednesday  evening  did  n't  go  very  well.  The 
night  was  stormy,  and,  though  I  don't  care  much  for  a  full 
audience  for  the  name  of  the  thing,  I  need  it  for  inspiration,  and 
when  I  see  a  small  audience  I  lose  the  impersonalness  of  the 
thing.  I  think  of  individuals  and  that  always  puts  me  out. 
But  it  never  is  yet  the  same  thing  talking  in  Trinity  that  it  used 
to  be  in  the  old  time  speaking  from  the  dear  old  platform." 
(January  11,  1871.) 

"I  have  been  quite  stirred  upon  the  subject  of  prophecy  in 
writing  a  sermon  for  last  Sunday  on  Cephas.  I  am  quite  con- 
vinced that  there  were  two  Isaiahs.  .  .  .  Queer  people  come 
to  consult  me  here.  To-day  there  was  a  man  who  had  been  to 
England  and  got  into  some  set  of  fanatics  there  and  come  home 
calling  himself  a  Christadelphian.  To-morrow,  like  as  not,  it 
will  be  a  sceptic  of  the  wildest  incredulity."    (January  18,  1871.) 

"  One  evening  this  week  I  had  my  Cambridge  boys,  the  fifteen 
senior  members  of  the  St.  Paul's  Society,  in  at  my  room  to  spend 
the  evening  with  me,  a  noble  set  of  fellows,  manly  and  true,  and 
helped  instead  of  hurt  by  their  religion.  I  take  great  pleasure 
in  them."     (February  3,  187 1.) 

"I  was  reading  last  night  one  of  Robertson's  lectures  on 
Poetry,  with  its  extravagant  glorification  of  war,  which  is  so 
amazing  in  a  right-minded  man  like  him.  It  seems  to  have  been 
the  last  remnant  of  brutality  in  a  nature  which  had  been  almost 
everywhere  cultured  and  refined  far  above  it.  But  who  can 
look  at  the  last  ten  years  on  both  continents  and  not  call  war 
horrible?  Let  us  trust  this  one  is  over.  Good  must  come  of  it, 
horrible  as  the  process  is.  Whoever  was  to  blame  for  it,  we 
surely  can't  help  being  thankful  that  Prussia  and  not  France  is 
to  be  master  in  Europe."     (February  13,   187 1.) 

"This  is  one  of  the  evenings  when  I  wish  myself  in  Philadel- 
phia; not  that  anything  particular  is  the  matter  with  Boston, 
but  I  have  an  evening  to  myself  and  I  am  tired  of  reading,  and 
there  is  nobody  in  particular  that  I  can  go  and  see  without  its 
being  a  visit,  which  I  don't  feel  up  to.  Nobody's  house  where 
I  can  go  and  smoke  and  be  pleasantly  talked  to,  and  answer  or 
not,  as  I  please.     I  know  one  such  house  in  another  town  where 


248  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

I  don't  live  any  longer,     But  I  am  not  there,  and  I  must  make 
the  best  of  it."     (March  7,  1871.) 

"As  to  English  Church  matters,  I  am  thoroughly  content  with 
the  Voysey  decision,  and  I  think  the  Convocation  debate  about 
Vance  Smith  disgraceful."     (March  15,  1871.) 

"This  evening  I  have  been  reading  Tyndall's  new  book  of 
Alpine  stories,  which  is  very  charming,  bringing  back  the  fascina- 
tion of  that  wonderful  country  and  exciting  one  as  all  such  ac- 
counts of  venturesome  climbing  unaccountably  do.  The  style 
is  charming,  and  the  man,  with  his  splendid  health  and  enjoy- 
ment of  nature  and  his  current  of  sentiment,  is  delightful." 
(July  25,  1871.) 

"Are  all  Hutton's  essays  like  the  one  which  I  have  just  been 
reading?  It  is  on  The  Incarnation  and  the  Laws  of  Evidence, 
and  shows  a  breadth  and  purity  and  devoutness  of  mind  which 
gives  one  great  delight.  I  would  rather  have  a  Unitarian  read 
it  than  any  book  I  know;  and  if  one  thinks  that  Broad  Church- 
manship  is  necessarily  hard  or  indifferent,  of  the  Whately  or 

the style,  nothing  could  better  convince  him  otherwise  than 

the  warmth  and  earnestness  of  this  little  book,  which  has  so 
evidently  come  out  of  a  man's  soul."     (August  10,  187 1.) 

The  summer  of  187 1  was  spent  in  Boston,  in  accordance  with  a 
rule,  though  it  was  not  invariable,  of  taking  the  alternate  sum- 
mers in  Europe.  Throughout  the  summer  he  preached  regularly 
at  Trinity  Church  in  the  morning,  and  at  St.  Mark's,  West 
Newton  Street,  in  the  evening.  Both  churches  were  free  to 
strangers.     As  the  season  opened  in  the  fall,  he  wrote: 

"The  old  round  of  parish  duties,  which  I  have  gone  to  afresh 
every  autumn  for  twelve  years,  has  opened  again,  and  I  have 
been  rather  surprised  at  myself  to  find  that  I  take  it  up  with 
just  as  much  interest  as  ever.  I  suppose  that  other  men  feel  it 
of  their  occupations,  but  I  can  hardly  imagine  that  any  other 
profession  can  be  as  interesting  as  mine.  I  am  more  and  more 
glad  that  I  am  a  parson." 

"How  delightfully  lazy  it  was  in  Philadelphia,  and  Boston 
seems  so  driven  and  hurried.  People  here  seem  possessed  to  do 
something  without  much  care  for  what  they  do.  The  mere 
passion  of  restlessness  is  in  the  Yankee  blood  and  partly  in  the 
East  winds.  .  .  I  have  had  an  awfully  uneventful  life.  Things 
happen  to  other  people,  but  not  to  me.     I  am  ashamed  to  look 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        249 

back  over  any  day,  though  I  was  never  busier  in  my  life.  It 
seems  made  up  of  such  wretched  little  details,  and  yet  I  would  n't 
be  anything  else  but  a  parson  for  the  world.  I  wonder  often 
that  the  work  keeps  up  such  a  perpetual  freshness  when  the 
days  are  so  monotonous." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  grace  of  sickness.  It  seems  to  me 
terrible,  the  whole  idea  of  suffering,  but  even  more  of  weakness 
and  weariness." 

"  It  is  my  birthday  and  I  am  thirty-six  years  old.  It  seems  a 
little  strange  but  not  unpleasant,  and  although  I  have  had  a 
pretty  time  indeed  so  far,  and  would  be  glad  to  go  back  and  do 
it  all  over  again  yet  I  am  not  miserable  that  I  cannot,  and  I  am 
still  rather  absurdly  hopeful  about  the  future.  To  have  passed 
out  of  young  manhood  altogether  and  find  myself  a  middle  aged 
man  is  a  little  sobering,  but  I  only  hope  that  all  the  young  fellows 
who  come  after  me  will  have  as  good  a  time  as  I  have  had.  .  .  . 
We  have  been  seeing  the  Russian  Grand  Duke,  who  appears  to 
be  a  fine,  manly,  sensible  fellow."     (December  13,  1871.) 

"Last  Sunday  I  spent  at  New  Haven,  and  enjoyed  it  exceed- 
ingly. Stayed  with  Dr.  Harwood,  who  is  a  fine,  studious  Broad 
Churchman ;  preached  for  him  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening 
preached  in  his  church  for  the  Berkeley  Association  of  Yale  Col- 
lege. The  church  was  crowded,  and  Congregational  professors 
sat  in  the  chancel.  I  had  never  seen  Yale  College  before,  and 
was  interested  in  its  size  and  life.  It  is  not  equal  to  Cambridge, 
but  it  is  a  great  college  still.  .  .  .  Have  you  read  Lightfoot's 
Commentary  on  Philippians?  Do  get  it  and  read  the  "Essay 
on  the  Christian  Ministry."  It  does  seem  to  me  to  finish  the 
Apostolic  Succession  Theory  completely." 

"The  California  plan  is  not  settled  yet,  but  I  think  I  shall  go. 
.  .  .  Though  it  would  be  folly  to  talk  about  being  run  down,  I 
am  conscious  of  having  been  on  the  strain  rather  too  long.  I 
have  preached  twice  every  Sunday,  and  generally  three  times, 
since  I  got  home  from  Europe,  a  year  ago  last  September.  I  am 
preaching  badly,  and  the  trip  will  do  me  more  good  now  than  at 
any  other  time." 

"I  don't  think  that  parsons  really  are  so  bad.  I  suspect  that 
they  are  human,  and  I  see  but  little  evidence  practically  of  apos- 
tolic succession,  but  I  think  there  are  not  many  who  would 
refuse  to  see  a  small-pox  patient,  or  who  would  give  up  parish 
visiting  because  the  small-pox  was  in  town." 

"I  get  so  tired  of  talking  with  tongue  and  pen  that  I  don't  feel 


250  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

equal  to  hearing  myself  in  one  unnecessary  word.  To-day,  for 
instance,  I  have  preached  a  Price  Lecture,  and  attended  two 
funerals,  and  carried  on  a  mission  meeting  among  our  poor  folk, 
and  had  a  regular  Wednesday  evening  meeting  (lecture).  I  am 
sure  that  I  shall  hear  my  own  dreary  voice  reading  the  service  in 
my  dreams.  I  have  been  looking  through  Hawthorne's  Italian 
Diary, — an  interesting  book  that  it  would  have  been  wicked  to 
publish  if  it  had  not  been  the  work  of  a  man  who  took  delight  in 
dissecting  himself  in  public."     (March  8,  1872.) 

"  I  have  been  reading  a  new  book,  which  is  a  rare  thing  with  me 
nowadays.  This  one  delights  me  exceedingly.  It  is  Dr.  Sears's 
book  on  St.  John  (The  Fourth  Gospel,  the  Heart  of  Christ). 
Do  get  it  and  enjoy  it.  It  is  so  rich  and  true  and  wise.  All 
that  he  has  written  before  is  excellent,  but  this  is  best  of  all.  I 
have  a  copy  of  his  Regeneration,  which  you  gave  me  once.  .  .  . 
Have  you  read  the  Life  of  Hookham  Frere?  It  is  very  interesting. 
Some  of  his  translations  are  wonderfully  well  done." 

"  I  have  perfected  my  plans  for  Europe  now  The  27th  of  June 
is  the  day,  and  Denmark,  Sweden,  and  Norway  are  the  places, 
with  possibly  a  little  of  Scotland  thrown  in.  Judge  Gray  goes 
with  me.  We  shall  represent  to  Norwegians  that  we  are  insig- 
nificant specimens  of  the  Amercan  size,  and  I  shall  tell  them  that 

they  ought  to  see  two  giants  we  have  at  home,  called and 

,  if  they  want  to  see  the  true  grandeur  of  the  American 

pulpit." 

"I  suppose  it  is  necessary  that  one  should  feel  that  his  time 
is  not  limited  before  he  can  enjoy  it  thoroughly.  At  least  it  is 
so  with  me.  I  hate  to  be  hurried.  That  vill  be  one  great 
advantage  of  heaven.  .  .  .  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time  for  all 
that  our  hands  find  to  do.  I  sometimes  have  suspicions  that  if 
I  could  live  for  five  hundred  years  I  might  come  to  something 
and  do  something  here.  All  is  going  on  beautifully  about  the 
new  church.  Some  of  the  people  of  their  own  notion  got  up  a 
subscription  to  buy  an  extra  piece  of  land,  and  in  a  few  days 
raised  $75,000,  and  are  going  on  now  to  make  it  a  hundred 
thousand,  so  that  the  church  will  be  really  something  very  fine. 
We  shall  have  in  all  something  pretty  near  half  a  million  to  put 
into  it. 

The  summer  of  1872  was  spent  by  Mr.  Brooks  in  northern 
Europe.  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine  accompanied  him  and  was 
with  him  for  a  month;  after  that  he  was  alone,  dependent  on 
acquaintances  made  in  travelling.     The  summer  included  several 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        251 

weeks  in  Norway.  From  Norway  he  passed  to  Sweden.  He 
was  delighted  with  Stockholm:  he  went  to  Upsala  for  its  uni- 
versity and  cathedral,  and  to  meditate  upon  Scandinavian 
mythology.  From  Sweden  he  went  to  Finland  and  thence  to 
St.  Petersburg,  Warsaw,  and  Moscow,  recalling  historical  asso- 
ciations, commenting  on  ways  and  customs,  drawing  his  own 
inferences,  but  especially  interested  in  the  churches,  which  he 
made  it  a  rule  to  attend  on  every  possible  occasion.  He  returned 
from  Russia  to  Berlin,  stopped  at  Copenhagen  and  Hamburg, 
then  went  to  Paris,  where  he  met  his  brother,  and  together  they 
sailed  for  home.  A  friend  of  Mr  Brooks  contributes  this  remi- 
niscence of  the  summer: 

"When  Brooks  was  approaching  Christiania  he  heard  that 
Prince  Oscar  was  to  come  on  board  the  steamer  on  which  he  was 
travelling.  As  the  ship  anchored,  the  royal  barge  drew  near 
amidst  a  thunder  of  salutes  from  the  forts.  When  the  Prince 
reached  the  deck  he  stood  for  a  moment  between  the  sailors 
drawn  up  on  either  side  of  the  gangway,  and  noticing  Brooks, 
who  stood  behind  the  sailors,  said  in  excellent  English,  waving 
his  hand  toward  the  city,  'Is  it  not  a  loyal  people?'  The  prince 
then  retired  to  the  end  of  the  ship  roped  off  for  his  exclusive  use. 
At  midnight,  Brooks  was  smoking  a  last  cigar  before  turning  in, 
sitting  on  a  part  of  the  deck  far  removed  from  the  royal  enclo- 
sure, when  a  tall  man  wrapped  in  a  cloak  drew  near.  It  proved 
to  be  the  Prince,  who  said  in  English,  '  Will  you  oblige  me  with  a 
light?'  When  he  had  lit  his  cigar  he  sat  down  and  entered  into 
a  long  conversation,  asking  many  intelligent  questions  about 
America,  especially  about  the  judiciary,  the  method  of  adminis- 
tering justice  in  the  courts,  etc.  He  spoke  like  a  man  conscious 
that  he  had  come  to  a  position  of  responsibility,  and  anxious  to 
learn  all  that  might  be  of  use  to  him.  The  next  day  the  Prince 
disembarked.  Before  leaving  the  ship,  as  he  stood  at  the  gang- 
way, he  reached  over  the  line  of  sailors  behind  which  Brooks  was 
standing,  and,  shaking  hands  with  him,  said,  '  Au  revoir.  The 
earth  is  round  and  we  '11  meet  again.' " 

A  few  extracts  from  his  note-book  give  us  an  idea  of  the  deeper 
moods  of  the  traveller,  in  this  summer  of  1872 : 

"  As  we  travel,  it  seems  sometimes  as  if  ninety-nine  hundredths 
of  the  people  in  this  world  had  so  hard  a  time,  could  find  so  little 
in  their  lot  to  enjoy.  The  reassurance  must  come  from  consider- 
ing that  joy  in  mere  life,  often  dumb,  brutish,  and  unconscious, 


252  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

but  very  real,  which  every  creature  has,  the  luxury  of  mere  exist- 
ence to  which  we  cling,  for  which  we  slave,  and  which  we  really 
do  enjoy. 

"As  we  travel,  this  impresses  us  much,  I  think, — the  uniform- 
ity of  nature  under  all  the  endlessly  various  changes  of  men  and 
their  ways  and  customs,  always  the  same  sky  and  ground  and 
grass.  It  is  a  striking  picture  of  the  universality  of  the  primary 
and  simple  emotions  and  affections,  beneath  the  changing  aspects 
of  men's  more  complicated  life, — this  sight  everywhere  of  the 
simplest  signs  of  the  simplest  emotions.  The  child's  smile, 
curiosity,  love,  rage,  give  us  the  same  idea. 

"After  all,  it  is  the  deepest  and  not  the  superficial  interest  of 
life  in  which  men  sympathize  most  and  come  together;  in  religion 
above  all  other  things,  and  as  regards  religion  in  those  things 
which  are  deepest,  not  in  forms  and  ordinances,  but  in  the  sense 
of  sin,  the  sense  of  God,  the  hope  of  perfectness.  I  was  struck 
with  it  as  I  travelled  in  Norway,  where  those  whom  I  had  not 
understood,  who  had  lived  a  different  life  all  the  week,  seemed  as 
I  saw  them  in  church  on  Sunday  to  be  so  perfectly  intelli- 
gible. The  value  of  Sunday  as  thus  the  common  day,  the  day 
of  worship." 

Out  of  these  reflections  was  born  a  sermon  on  the  text,  "Until 
I  went  into  the  sanctuary  of  God  " : 

"The  sanctuary  of  God,  the  place  of  solved  problems.  I  think 
one  cannot  go  into  any  temple  which  men  have  built  to  worship 
God  in,  in  however  false  a  way,  cannot  enter  a  mosque  or  the 
most  superstitious  of  cathedrals  in  a  right  spirit,  without  seeming 
to  feel  the  influence  of  some  such  spiritual  illumination  on  the 
problems  that  he  has  left  outside  in  the  hot  street.  I  dare  not 
despise  the  poor  Russian  crossing  himself,  etc." 

"I  went  yesterday  into  a  bookstore  to  find  something  to  read 
on  my  journey  hither,  and  the  only  legible  thing  that  I  could  hit 
on — strange  company  for  an  orthodox  travelling  parson — was  a 
cheap  copy  of  Renan's  'Les  Apotres.'  I  read  it  through  yester- 
day, and  it  was  dreadful ;  the  studious  putting  of  the  supernat- 
ural and  the  spiritual  out  of  our  knowledge,  and  almost  out 
of  our  existence,  the  making  of  life  its  own  complete  solution.  I 
pitied  him  for  his  flippant  satisfaction,  every  page  I  read.  What 
can  such  an  one  do  with  death?" 

These  journeys  of  Phillips  Brooks  constitute  the  breaks  in  a 
somewhat  monotonous  round  of  triumph  and  honors,  of  number- 
less engagements,  of  constantly  recurring  social  functions.     They 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        253 

were  his  only  recreation,  his  only  mode  of  escape  from  the  burdens 
of  the  life  that  now  began  to  press  ever  more  heavily  upon  him. 
He  had  ceased  riding  horseback;  his  walking  was  mainly  con- 
fined to  his  round  of  parish  visiting.  Occasionally  he  walked 
when  he  went  to  Cambridge  to  preach.  Now  and  then  he  men- 
tions bathing,  fishing,  and  sailing,  as  when  he  visits  some  parish- 
ioner. He  appeared  so  well,  however,  that  one  would  hardly 
suppose  that  he  was  the  worse  for  neglect  of  exercise.  Yet  there 
were  hints  suggestive  of  danger.  In  1871  he  was  for  several  days 
confined  to  the  house  with  a  bad  throat.  He  wrote  describing 
his  illness  to  Dr.  Mitchell  of  Philadelphia,  admitting  that  he  had 
been  alarmed.  Here  was  his  vulnerable  point.  He  was  putting 
a  burden  upon  his  voice  to  which  it  was  not  equal.  Those  who 
were  experts  in  the  use  of  the  voice  were  convinced  that  he  did 
not  understand  the  right  use  of  the  vocal  organs.  When  he  was 
fairly  launched  in  his  sermon,  in  the  storm  and  stress  of  his  great 
effort,  one  seemed  to  hear  the  voice  creaking  and  groaning,  as  if 
overstrained,  and  the  result  was  sometimes  harsh  and  unmusical. 
There  were  fears  that  his  voice  might  fail  him, — fears  in  which 
he  shared,  and  which  sometimes  depressed  him  as  he  thought  of 
the  future.  But  the  immediate  danger  passed  away,  and  the 
voice  recovered  from  its  ill  usage,  though  somewhat  impaired. 

This  was  the  time  when  he  should  have  married  and  formed  a 
home  of  his  own.  His  friends  introduced  reminders  of  the  sub- 
ject in  their  letters,  but  his  reply  was  only  that  the  coming  woman 
had  not  yet  appeared.  When  he  first  came  to  Boston  he  took 
rooms  at  34  Mount  Vernon  Street,  but  complained  of  the  want 
of  sunlight,  and  soon  transferred  himself  to  the  Hotel  Kempton 
on  Berkeley  Street.  He  was  now  creating  a  new  life  in  the  hosts 
of  friends  who  gathered  about  him.  He  made  it  a  rule  to  dine 
with  his  father  and  mother  every  Sunday,  after  morning  service. 
At  his  older  brother's  house,  he  found  another  home.  He  was 
greatly  interested  in  the  birth  of  his  first  niece  as  the  starting  of 
a  new  generation  in  the  Brooks  family.  His  youngest  brother, 
John,  he  attended  on  his  way  through  Harvard,  as  he  had  done 
with  Frederick  and  Arthur.  John  graduated  in  1872,  and  then 
the  family  succession  at  Harvard  ceased.  "Since  I  entered  col- 
lege," he  writes,  "in  1851,  twenty  years  ago,  we  have  had  one 
there  all  the  time." 


254  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

It  was  a  family  event  of  peculiar  interest  when  at  the  ordina- 
tion of  Arthur  Brooks  to  the  diaconate,  his  two  elder  brothers 
in  the  ministry  were  present,  Frederick  Brooks  presenting  the 
candidate,  and  Phillips  Brooks  preaching  the  sermon.  The 
event  took  place  in  Trinity  Church,  June  25,  1870,  Bishop  East- 
burn  officiating.  A  brilliant  career  opened  at  once  to  the  younger 
brother.  His  first  parish  was  at  Williamsport,  Pennsylvania, 
where  in  a  short  time  he  witnessed  as  a  result  of  his  labors  the 
erection  of  a  new  church.  In  1872  he  accepted  a  call  to  the  par- 
ish of  St.  James  in  Chicago.  The  following  letter  was  writ- 
ten to  him  by  Phillips  Brooks  on  the  occasion  of  his  brother's 
engagement: 

"Boston,  March  23,  1872.  I  write  at  once  to  say  how  sin- 
cerely and  with  all  my  heart  I  congratulate  you  upon  your  great 
happiness.  Of  course  you  are  very  happy,  and  you  have  the 
best  right  to  be,  for  a  life  is  a  poor,  imperfect  sort  of  thing  unless 
a  man  is  married,  and  engagement  is  about  the  same  thing.  I 
hope  it  won't  be  a  long  engagement.  Do  be  married  and  be 
wholly  happy  very  soon.  Life  is  n't  long  enough  to  waste  any 
of  it.  .  .  .  " 

None  were  quicker  than  his  old  college  friends  and  classmates 
to  discern  and  rejoice  in  the  signs  of  his  greatness,  many  of  them 
living  in  or  near  Boston,  some  of  them  his  parishioners  at  Trinity. 
He  felt  at  first  some  embarrassment  at  the  revelation  of  his  new 
and  greater  self  to  these  associates  of  earlier  years.  Hardly  had 
he  become  fixed  in  Boston  when  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  trans- 
ferring to  it  his  clerical  friends  of  Philadelphia  and  rebuilding  his 
old  environment.  Soon  after  Mr.  Brooks  came  to  Trinity,  Dr. 
Vinton  came  to  Boston  as  rector  of  Emmanuel  Church.  In  1870 
his  clerical  friends  were  associated  in  a  club  called  the  "Clericus," 
which  met  on  the  first  Monday  evening  in  every  month,  organized 
after  the  plan  of  the  Clericus  in  Philadelphia,  already  mentioned, 
if  it  could  be  called  an  organization  which  had  no  constitution 
or  by-laws.  It  possessed  a  clerk  who  notified  the  members  of 
the  monthly  meetings.  In  the  course  of  years  it  developed  a 
president  in  the  person  of  Phillips  Brooks,  but  no  one  ever  knew 
exactly  when  or  by  what  process  he  assumed  the  office.  His 
right  to  it,  however,  was  unquestioned.  The  meetings  were 
held  informally  for  a  few  years  in  the  houses  of  the  members, 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        255 

until  finally  Mr.  Brooks  insisted  that  they  should  meet  regularly 
at  his  rooms.  The  social  element  on  the  whole  was  the  most 
prominent  feature  of  these  evenings,  despite  the  inevitable  essay. 
There  were  some  who  thought  that  the  meetings  would  be  more 
profitable  if  the  members  were  all  required  to  speak  in  turn,  but 
to  this  arrangement  the  president  positively  refused  to  listen. 
The  talk  should  be  spontaneous  or  not  at  all.  If  a  member  had 
anything  to  say  let  him  wait  his  chance  and  then  hold  the  floor 
if  he  could  get  it  against  some  one  else  more  anxious  to  be  heard. 
It  was  practically  Phillips  Brooks's  Club,  and  so  t  came  to  be 
generally  known.  It  formed  a  prominent  feature  in  his  life,  as 
it  surely  did  in  the  lives  of  all  its  other  members.  Those  who 
had  the  privilege  of  meeting  him  there  saw  him  and  heard  him 
in  familiar  and  yet  impressive  ways  which  will  never  be  for- 
gotten. He  was  seldom  absent  from  its  meetings;  he  kept 
track  of  absent  members,  and  urged  their  attendance  or 
reproved  them  for  neglect.1 

The  demands  upon  him  were  so  great  even  in  these  early  years 
in  Boston  that  one  wondered  how  he  found  time  for  reading  or 
sermon- writing.  According  to  his  diary  there  is  rarely  a  day 
when  he  does  not  mention  some  dinner  engagement.  Breakfast 
was  about  the  only  meal  that  he  took  at  his  lodgings.  He 
never  gave  the  impression,  however,  of  one  who  suffered  from 
the  burden  of  his  duties,  and  never  complained,  except  in  familiar 
letters,  that  his  life  was  not  wholly  to  his  mind.  He  attended 
concerts  occasionally,  especially  the  Oratorios  given  in  Music 
Hall.  He  kept  late  hours,  not  generally  retiring  before  twelve 
o'clock,  but  was  always  an  early  riser,  breakfasting  at  half-past 
seven.  He  had  one  standing  engagement  where  there  was  no 
objection  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour, — his  Sunday  evenings  at 
Dr.  Vinton's  after  his  third  service  was  over.  If  he  found  "the 
doctor  favorable  for  conversation"  the  occasion  was  a  prolonged 
one.     Amid   this   multiplicity   of   engagements,    he   did   secure 

»  The  founders  and  original  members  of  the  Club  were  Phillips  Brooks, 
Rufus  W.  Clark,  C.  A.  L.  Richards,  Arthur  Lawrence,  William  W.  New- 
ton, W.  R.  Huntington,  A.  V.  G.  Allen,  James  P.  Franks,  Charles  H.  Lea- 
royd,  George  L.  Locke,  Henry  L.  Jones,  Charles  C.  Tiffany,  Percy  Browne, 
Edmund  Rowland,  Leonard  K.  Storrs,  Henry  F.  Allen,  Rt.  Rev.  Thomas 
M.  Clark,  Treadwell  Walden,  James  H.  Lee,  C.  G.  Currie,  E.  D.  Tomp- 
kins, H.  C.  Cunningham. 


256  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

time  for  reading.  From  187 1  he  was  a  member  of  the  Examining 
Committee  of  the  Public  Library  in  Boston,  which  served  to 
keep  new  literature  before  him.  His  own  library,  already  large, 
was  rapidly  growing.  He  continued  to  make  it  a  rule  to  read 
books  as  they  appeared,  which  every  one  else  was  reading,  and 
so  kept  himself  in  contact  with  the  literary  trend  of  the  moment. 
In  poetry  at  this  time  there  was  Browning's  Ring  and  the  Book 
A.  H.  Clough's  poems,  Morris's  Earthly  Paradise,  Robert  Buchan- 
an's poems,  George  Eliot's  Spanish  Gypsy,  etc. ;  these  he  read. 

"  I  indulged  myself  in  a  little  piece  of  mediaevalism  in  Rossetti's 
Poems,  and  as  I  read  over  the  '  Blessed  Damosel '  last  night  I 
thanked  you  for  it.  Have  you  ever  read  the  Poems?  They  are 
Pre-Raphaelitism  in  verse,  very  curious  and  very  lovely  in  their 
way,  but  you  need  to  go  at  them  in  the  right  mood,  perfectly 

dreamy,  entirely  untroubled  with  practical  affairs.  .  .  .  Q 

would  n't  like  them  because  they  don't  preach  the  Gospel  a  bit, 

and  C would  n't  like  them  because  there  is  not  a  word  of 

parish  work  in  them;  but  they  are  very  pretty,  nevertheless, 
when  you  are  a  trifle  tired  with  parish  work."  (December  27, 
1870.) 

There  was  different  and  more  substantial  reading  in  Hunt's 
Religious  Thought  in  England,  which  he  greatly  admired,  or 
Tulloch's  Rational  Theology  in  the  Church  of  England.  In  other 
books  which  he  was  reading  we  get  the  reflection  of  the  hour: 
Lecky's  History  of  Rationalism,  Darwin's  Descent  of  Man,  the 
writings  of  Herbert  Spencer,  Huxley,  and  Tyndall,  whose  Prayer 
Gauge  suggested  a  sermon  on  prayer  in  which  he  maintained 
its  objective  as  well  as  subjective  effects;  Matthew  Arnold's 
Culture  and  Anarchy,  Froude's  History  of  England,  Stanley's 
Westminster  Abbey,  and  Parkman's  Jesuits  in  North  America; 
in  biography,  the  lives  of  Lacordaire  and  of  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury,  and  the  Letters  of  John  Adams;  in  lighter  books  or 
novels,  Realmah.  Auerbach's  On  the  Heights,  Wilhelm  Meister, 
and  Lord  Chesterfield's  Letters.  One  period  of  history  he 
continued  to  study  with  peculiar  zest, — the  English  civil  war 
and  the  age  of  the  Commonwealth.  He  read  anew  Cromwell's 
Letters  by  Carlyle,  taking  notes  as  he  read.  He  read  Burnet, 
Clarendon,  Hallam,  and  Nugent' s  Memorials  of  Hampden. 
Masson's  Life  of  Milton  sent  him  to  Milton  himself,  and  especially 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        257 

to  the  Areopagitica.  Another  author  whom  he  valued  and  kept 
by  him  was  Isaac  Taylor.  Wordsworth  must  be  mentioned  and 
Shakespeare  particularly  as  writers  to  whom  he  was  constantly 
recurring. 

In  his  more  distinctively  religious  reading,  he  was  carrying 
out  some  larger  purpose.  He  was  studying  the  Fourth  Gospel 
as  the  basis  of  Wednesday  evening  lectures;  he  had  also  begun 
a  systematic  study  of  the  life  of  Christ.  After  the  first  six  months 
of  his  rectorship  at  Trinity,  during  which  he  was  making  the 
acquaintance  of  the  parish  and  wrote  but  a  few  sermons,  he 
began  with  renewed  zeal  the  task  of  sermon-writing,  under  a 
somewhat  different  impulse  from  that  which  had  inspired  the 
Philadelphia  preaching.  The  religious  situation  was  changing; 
the  spirit  of  free  inquiry  had  gone  deeper ;  the  difficulties  begotten 
by  the  scientific  spirit  were  to  many  overwhelming.  These 
influences  he  had  not  felt  so  strongly  in  Philadelphia.  There 
his  task  had  been  to  arouse  a  living,  fresher  interest  in  what  men 
already  believed.  Now  he  was  called  upon  to  meet  the  moods 
of  those  drifting  away  from  the  Christian  faith.  The  question 
was  before  him  how  to  be  true  to  one's  reason,  to  be  free  to  accept 
new  truth  from  whatever  quarter,  and  yet  to  maintain  the 
historic  faith. 

Two  of  his  sermons  in  these  early  years  in  Boston  were  notable, 
as  having  an  autobiographical  value;  both  of  them  received  his 
further  approval  by  their  choice  for  publication  The  sermon 
entitled  "The  Young  and  the  Old  Christian"  from  Deut.  xxxiii. 
16, 1  "The  good  will  of  him  that  dwelt  in  the  bush,"  written  in 
1 87 1,  has  the  marks  of  the  earlier  Philadelphia  manner  when  he 
rejoiced  in  discovering  some  unfamiliar  passage  of  Scripture, 
whose  meaning  was  not  at  once  obvious.  The  thought  of  the 
sermon  bears  on  the  relation  between  the  beginning  and  the  end 
of  the  Christian  life;  on  the  process  of  growth  in  which  the  per- 
sonal Christ  becomes  clearer  to  us  in  the  years  of  mature  man- 
hood ;  so  that  whatever  the  years  may  bring  in  the  accretions  of 
knowledge  or  wisdom,  we  shall  never  be  called  on  to  renounce 
as  unreal  the  vision  of  youth  by  the  bush  side  when  we  first 
heard  the  voice  of  God  in  our  ears.     He  protests  against  the  nar- 

'  The  sermon  is  published  in  the  second  volume  of  his  sermons,  The 
Candle  of  the  Lord,  and  other  Sermons,  p.  .39. 


258  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

rowness  and  illiberality  which  many  identified  with  the  Christ- 
ian faith:  "Narrowness  of  view  and  sympathy  is  not  unnatural 
in  a  new  believer.  It  is  very  unnatural  in  the  maturer  Christ- 
ian life." 

"It  is  too  apt  to  be  the  case  that  only  by  experience  does  the 
Christian  reach  this  breadth  of  sympathy,  which  comes  not  from 
indifference,  but  from  the  profoundest  personal  earnestness.  It 
is  something  wholly  different  from  the  loose  toleration  which  men 
praise,  which  is  negative,  which  cares  nothing  about  what  is  abso- 
lutely true  or  false.  ...  At  present  it  seems  to  be  assumed  that 
narrowness  is  essential  to  positive  belief,  and  that  toleration  can 
be  reached  only  by  general  indifference.  Not  long  ago  I  read  this 
sentence  in  what  many  hold  to  be  our  ablest  and  most  thoughtful 
journal:  'It  is  a  law  which  in  the  present  condition  of  human 
nature  holds  good,  that  strength  of  conviction  is  always  in  the 
inverse  ratio  of  the  tolerant  spirit.'  " 

But  if  men  can  only  be  filled  with  the  spirit  of  God,  we  "may 
still  see  some  maturer  type  of  Christianity,  in  which  new  ages  of 
positive  faith  may  still  be  filled  with  the  broadest  sympathy, 
and  men  tolerate  their  brethren  without  enfeebling  themselves." 
To  this  end  "there  must  be  a  larger  and  larger  absorption  of 
truth  or  doctrine  into  life." 

"We  hear  all  around  us  nowadays  great  impatience  with  the 
prominence  of  dogma — that  is,  of  truth  abstractly  and  definitely 
stated — in  Christianity.  And  most  of  those  who  are  thus  im- 
patient really  mean  well.  They  feel  that  Christianity,  being  a 
thing  of  personal  salvation,  ought  to  show  itself  in  characters  and 
lives.  There  they  are  right.  But  to  decry  dogma  in  the  interest 
of  character  is  like  despising  food  as  if  it  interfered  with  health. 
.  .  .  Before  the  young  Christian  lie  the  doctrines  of  his  faith, 
— God's  being,  God's  care,  Christ's  incarnation,  Christ's  atone- 
ment, immortality.  What  has  the  old  Christian  with  his  long 
experience  done  with  them?  He  holds  them  no  longer  crudely, 
as  things  to  be  believed  merely.  He  has  transmuted  them  into 
forms  of  life.  .  .  .  The  young  dogmatist  boasts  of  his  dogmas. 
The  old  saint  lives  his  life." 

Mr.  Brooks  was  encountering  divergent  attitudes  in  regard  to 
Christian  faith :  some  were  tenacious  and  defiant  in  maintaining 
the  traditional  doctrines;  others  were  calling  for  elimination,  or 
modification,  or  restatement;  others  rejected  creeds  altogether, 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        259 

or  if  there  must  be  a  creed,  let  it  be  made  anew  each  day  or  year 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  passing  hour.  Under  these 
circumstances  he  wrote  his  sermon  on  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  "I 
have  kept  the  faith."  1  During  his  summer  in  northern  Europe 
in  1872,  when  his  mind  was  at  leisure  to  dwell  upon  his  work,  the 
words  kept  recurring  to  his  mind,  "I  have  kept  the  faith."  He 
notes  in  his  journal  as  a  popular  fallacy  "that  a  man  must  change 
his  views  to  show  his  freedom."  He  had  before  him  "the  danger 
of  making  one's  opinions  matters  of  faith."  The  question  of 
training  children  brings  the  issue  to  a  test.  Shall  they  be  brought 
up  in  the  traditional  faith?  What  is  the  result  of  the  experiment 
which  leaves  them  without  religious  tenets,  until  they  arrive  at 
maturer  years?  "  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  Collect  for  Trinity 
Sunday,  which  asks  of  God  that  He  would  keep  us  in  this  faith? 
Is  it  merely  a  prayer  that  pride  and  obstinacy  may  be  strength- 
ened, or  that  He  would  show  us  a  method  of  keeping  ideas  fixed? 
Exactly  what  did  St.  Paul  mean  by  'the  faith'?"  It  is  evident 
that  he  meant,  whatever  else  may  have  been  implied,  "certain 
fixed  belief,"  which  he  had  received  and  not  originated.  The 
conclusion  is  "the  possibility  of  counting  some  things  settled  and 
going  on  to  develop  them  into  life";  and  the  method  is  through 
obedience.  No  faith  is  kept  except  as  it  is  obeyed.  There  is 
"a  strange  mixture  of  the  moral  element"  in  all  the  passages  of 
the  New  Testament  where  "the  faith"  is  mentioned.  No  faith 
can  be  truly  kept  except  by  discovering  in  it  relations  to  life. 
So  it  must  be  with  the  doctrines  of  God,  of  the  Incarnation,  of 
the  Trinity,  of  the  Atonement,  of  Immortality. 

The  sermon  was  delivered  at  a  moment  when  people  were  won- 
dering at  his  preaching,  unable  to  define  his  position  to-  their 
satisfaction.  This  sermon  gives  the  open  secret.  There  is  no 
bondage  in  holding  to  the  historic  faith  as  expressed  in  Christian 
doctrines,  but  rather  through  them  lies  the  way  to  perfect 
freedom.  The  tendency  of  Christian  doctrines  is  to  expansion 
under  the  vital  process  which  reveals  in  them  a  relation  to  life. 

The  impersonal  character  of  entries  in  his  note-book  prevents 

one  from  discerning  the  motive  out  of  which  they  spring.     His 

,    fellow-traveller  in  Norway  was  abruptly  summoned  home  by  the 

death  of  a  child.     This  is  his  comment  when  left  alone  to  his 

1  Sermons,  vol.  i.,  p.  57. 


26o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

reflections:  "It  seems  as  if  a  child's  death  and  the  keen,  bitter 
pain  it  brings  us  let  us  see  much  of  the  feebleness  of  the  intellect- 
ual powers  to  command  our  love, — of  the  possibility  of  that 
in  which  the  intellectual  was  not  at  all  developed  holding  us 
intensely." 

Other  extracts  from  his  note-book  follow: 

"We  have  no  descriptions  of  Jesus  in  the  Gospels,  only  stories 
of  what  He  did.  The  perfection  of  Biography.  Contrast  with 
novels." 

"The  difference  between  suffering  and  pain.  Pain  is  acciden- 
tal, suffering  is  essential.  It  is  right  and  necessary  that  we 
should  undergo  and  accept  as  our  lot  whatever  comes  in  our  way 
of  work  whether  it  is  agreeable  or  disagreeable  (and  therefore 
note  that  the  old  Latin  and  Greek  corresponding  words  were 
used  of  '  suffering '  or  '  experiencing '  either  pleasant  or  unpleasant 
things) ;  but  that  pain  in  the  sense  of  discomfort  should  accom- 
pany the  acceptance  is  a  mere  accident,  no  more  to  be  called  ab- 
solutely 'right'  or  'necessary'  by  the  ascetic  than,  on  the  other 
hand,  pleasure  is  by  the  voluptuary." 

"'I  will  walk  at  liberty  because  I  keep  Thy  commandments.' 
The  liberty  of  law,  Eden;  the  passage  out  of  it,  a  passpge  into 
slavery.  True  liberty  is  harmony.  The  slavery  of  self -con- 
sciousness that  comes  with  sin.  That  is  the  tree  of  knowledge. 
David,  so  free  in  his  goodness,  so  cowardly  in  his  sin.  Sympathy 
with  a  law  well  kept,  that  is  the  best  freedom." 

"We  may  not  always  be  consciously  thinking  of  God,  only  we 
must  think  of  all  things  through  and  in  Him,  as  we  do  not  always 
look  at  the  Sun  and  yet  see  all  things  we  know  only  by  the  Sun's 
shining." 

"The  danger,  the  terrible  danger  of  false  tests!  .  .  .  John 
Wesley  says,  'Infidels  know,  whether  Christians  know  it  or  not, 
that  the  giving  up  of  witchcraft  is  in  effect  giving  up  the  Bible.'  " 

"O  Lord  and  Sovereign  of  my  life,  take  from  me  the  spirit  of 
idleness,  despair,  love  of  power,  and  unprofitable  speaking." 
(Prayer  of  St.  Ephraim  of  Syria,  in  the  Russian  Liturgy.) 

To  Miss  Mitchell  he  writes  November  7,  1872: 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  as  you  have  in  your  last  two  let- 
ters about  not  living  long.     Not  that  I  think  death  is  dreadful 


TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON        261 

in  the  least  for  the  one  who  goes ;  he  has  the  best  of  it ;  but  it  is 
dreadful  to  be  left  behind,  and  find  how  merely  impossible  to 
make  new  friends  that  are  at  all  like  the  old.  I  am  sure,  too, 
that  our  friends  must  be  more  and  not  less  to  us  in  the  other 
world  than  they  are  here,  and  that  this  world  only  begins  friend- 
ships. Otherwise  nothing  could  be  more  wretched.  Only  I 
shudder  when  I  think  how  one's  friends  who  have  believed  in  him 
here  will  find  him  out  there,  and  see  what  a  humbug  he  was.  I 
don't  believe  it  will  alienate  them,  though,  and  no  doubt  even 
there  the  humiliation  will  be  good  for  him.  Promise  me  that 
however  you  find  me  out  to  have  been  a  delusion  and  a  sham  you 
won't  give  me  up,  for  I  forewarn  you  that  you  don't  know  me 
now,  and  if  you  ever  do  the  discovery  will  be  a  shock  to  you. 
Which  does  n't  mean  that  I  ever  murdered  a  parishioner  or 
robbed  a  house,  but  only  that  I  know  myself  better  than  you 
know  me." 

A  site  had  been  secured  for  a  new  church  edifice,  the  architect 
had  been  engaged,  and  plans  were  under  consideration,  when  the 
old  edifice  on  Summer  Street  fell  a  prey  to  the  flames  in  the  great 
Boston  fire  on  the  night  of  November  4,  1872.  Mr.  Brooks's 
account  of  it  is  given  in  this  letter  to  Miss  Mitchell : 

"  Boston,  November  12,  1872. 

"We  have  had  terrible  days.  Last  Saturday  night  and  Sunday 
were  fearful.  For  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  thing  would  never 
stop  so  long  as  there  was  anything  left  to  burn.  Everybody  has 
suffered,  almost  everybody  severely.  Very  many  have  lost  all. 
Scores  of  my  parishioners  have  been  burned  out.  But  the  cour- 
age and  cheerfulness  of  everybody  is  noble  and  delightful.  It 
began  about  eight  o'clock  Saturday  evening,  and  hour  after  hour 
it  went  on,  growing  worse  and  worse.  Street  after  street  went 
like  paper.  There  were  sights  so  splendid  and  awful  as  I  never 
dreamed  of,  and  now  the  desolation  is  bewildering.  There  was 
hard  work  enough  to  do  all  night,  and  though  much  was  lost, 
something  was  saved.  Old  Trinity  seemed  safe  all  night,  but 
towards  morning  the  fire  swept  into  her  rear,  and  there  was  no 
chance.  She  went  at  four  in  the  morning.  I  saw  her  well  afire 
inside  and  out,  carried  off  some  books  and  robes,  and  left  her. 
She  burnt  majestically,  and  her  great  tower  stands  now  solid  as 
ever,  a  most  picturesque  and  stately  ruin.  She  died  in  dignity. 
I  did  not  know  how  much  I  liked  the  great  gloomy  old  thing  till 
I  saw  her  windows  bursting  and  the  flame  running  along  the  old 
high  pews.  I  feel  that  it  was  better  for  the  church  to  go  so  than 
to  be  torn  down  stone  by  stone.  Of  course  our  immediate  incon- 
venience is  great,  and  we  shall  live  in  much  discomfort  for  the 


262  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

next  two  years.  We  have  engaged  the  Lowell  Institute,  a  Lec- 
ture Hall  that  seats  a  thousand  people,  and  shall  begin  service 
there  next  Sunday.   .   .  . 

"I  can  talk  of  nothing  but  the  fire,  and  not  of  that  coherently. 
Some  day  I  will  tell  you  all  I  can  about  it,  but  the  horribleness 
of  that  night  nobody  can  tell.  ..." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

1873-1877. 

ECCLESIASTICAL  CONTROVERSIES.  RELATION  TO  THE 
EVANGELICAL  SCHOOL.  EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRES- 
PONDENCE. THE  SUMMER  IN  EUROPE.  DEATH  OF 
FREDERICK  BROOKS.  SERVICES  IN  HUNTINGTON 
HALL.  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS.  METHOD 
OF  PREPARING  SERMONS.  ESSAY  ON  COURAGE. 
TESTIMONY  OF  PRINCIPAL  TULLOCH.  THE  NEW 
TRINITY    CHURCH. 

No  active  part  was  taken  by  Mr.  Brooks  in  the  controversies 
within  the  Episcopal  Church  which  culminated  in  the  year  1873. 
He  was  an  interested  spectator,  watching  the  proceedings  of 
conventions  and  the  trend  which  things  were  taking.  Although 
he  was  regarded  as  an  Evangelical  Churchman,  yet  so  early  as 
1870  he  found  himself  out  of  sympathy  with  the  management 
of  the  Evangelical  Educational  Society,  whose  object  was  to 
assist  young  men  in  their  preparation  for  the  ministry.  What 
had  moved  his  indignation  was  its  policy  of  sending,  to  the  young 
men  who  wished  to  become  its  beneficiaries,  a  circular  letter  con- 
taining a  series  of  questions  or  tests  which  they  were  required  to 
answer,  in  order  to  show  that  they  were  in  sympathy  with  Evan- 
gelical tenets.  When  Mr.  Brooks  became  aware  that  this  policy 
was  approved  by  the  Board  of  Managers  and  would  not  be  aban- 
doned, he  wrote  to  the  secretary  of  the  society  resigning  his  posi- 
tion upon  the  Board,  pointing  out  the  inconsistency  of  holding 
the  Scriptures  as  the  supreme  authority ,  which  was  above  all  tradi- 
tion, and  calling  upon  its  beneficiaries  to  subscribe  to  texts, 
which  were  only  tradition  in  another  form.  He  did  not  feel  that 
he  himself  could  subscribe  to  the  texts  the  society  imposed.    Not 

263 


264  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

long  after  this,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  educational  aid 
societies  were  undesirable  and  withdrew  from  the  society  alto- 
gether. He  refused  any  longer  to  ask  contributions  to  the  so- 
ciety's treasury  from  his  parish  or  to  allow  its  secretary  to  make 
the  annual  appeal.  But  he  confessed  that  the  question  was  a 
puzzling  one  on  which  he  could  see  no  light.  He  still  continued 
to  aid  theological  students  with  gifts  or  loans  of  money,  but  not 
always  with  satisfactory  results,  and  in  some  cases  experienced 
grievous  disappointment. 

In  separating  himself  from  the  managers  of  the  Evangelical 
cause  there  was  no  break  in  his  cordial  relations  with  individuals 
who  represented  the  Evangelical  attitude  as  he  understood  it.  He 
gave  his  name  as  usual  to  the  petition  to  the  General  Conven- 
tion, asking  for  relief  in  the  use  of  the  word  "regenerate,"  in  the 
Baptismal  office,  though  without  the  slightest  hope  that  the 
request  would  be  granted.  He  proposed  that  the  familiar  peti- 
tion be  sent  in  as  before,  with  the  suggestion  that  it  be  printed 
in  "Antique  Type."  He  himself  had  no  objection  to  the  word 
"regenerate"  as  applied  to  Baptism. 

When  Bishop  Eastburn  died,  in  1872,  who  for  more  than 
twenty-five  years  had  been  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  Mr. 
Brooks  paid  a  tribute  to  his  memory  from  the  pulpit,  when  he 
took  occasion  to  speak  of  the  Evangelical  movement  which  the 
Bishop  had  represented.  His  words  have  the  apparent  tone  of 
one  speaking  from  the  outside,  but  he  was  still  within  the  circle 
from  which  he  did  not  seek  escape : 

"The  Evangelical  movement  had  its  zealous  men  here  and 
there  throughout  the  land.  The  peculiarities  of  that  movement 
were  an  earnest  insistence  upon  doctrine,  and  upon  personal, 
spiritual  experience,  of  neither  of  which  had  the  previous  genera- 
tion made  very  much.  Man's  fallen  state,  his  utter  hopelessness, 
the  vicarious  atonement,  the  supernatural  conversion,  the  work 
of  the  Holy  Spirit, — these  were  the  truths  which  the  men  of  those 
days,  who  were  what  were  called  '  Evangelical '  men,  urged  with 
the  force  of  vehement  belief  upon  their  hearers.  They  were 
great  truths.  There  were  crude,  hard,  and  untrue  statements  of 
them  very  often,  but  they  went  deep;  they  laid  hold  upon  the 
souls  and  consciences  of  men.  They  created  most  profound  ex- 
periences. They  made  many  great  ministers  and  noble  Chris- 
tians. It  was  indeed  the  work  of  God.  To  those  of  you  who 
were  his  parishioners  and  friends,  who  heard  him  preach  year 


PARISH  MINISTRY  265 

after  year,  and  knew  what  lay  nearest  to  his  heart,  I  need  not 
say  how  entirely  Bishop  Eastburn  was  a  man  of  this  movement. 
His  whole  life  was  full  of  it.  He  had  preached  its  Gospel  in  New 
York  with  wonderful  success  and  power.  He  bore  his  testimony 
to  it  to  the  last  in  Boston.  A  faith  that  was  very  beautiful  in  its 
childlike  reliance  upon  God ;  a  sturdy  courage  which  would  have 
welcomed  the  martyrdom  of  more  violent  days;  a  complete,  un- 
questioning, unchanging  loyalty  to  the  ideas  which  he  had  once 
accepted;  a  deep  personal  piety,  which,  knowing  the  happiness 
of  divine  communion,  desired  that  blessedness  for  other  souls;  a 
wide  sympathy  for  all  of  every  name  who  were  working  for  the 
ends  which  he  loved  and  desired ;  these  with  his  kindly  heart  and 
constancy  in  friendship  made  the  power  of  the  long  minis- 
try of  Bishop  Eastburn.  The  teaching  of  this  parish  through 
twenty-six  years  was  most  direct  and  simple.  There  was  a 
dread,  even,  of  other  forms  in  which  the  same  awakening  of  spir- 
itual life  was  manifest.  The  High  Churchman  and  the  Broad 
Churchman  found  no  tolerance.  But  the  preacher  was  one 
whom  all  men  honored,  whose  strong  moral  force  impressed  the 
young  and  old,  whose  sturdy  independence  was  like  a  strong  east 
wind,  and  who  went  to  his  reward  crowned  with  the  love  of  many 
and  the  respect  of  all.  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  his  familiar 
figure  passed  away.  His  voice  is  still  fresh  in  our  ears.  The 
old  Church  comes  back,  and  he  stands  there  in  its  pulpit,  as  he 
must  always  stand,  among  the  most  marked  and  vigorous  fig- 
ures in  our  parish  history.  It  would  not  be  right  to  renew  our 
Church  life  without  cordial  remembrance  of  his  strength  and 
faithfulness." 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Evangelical  clergy  in  administering 
the  Lord's  Supper  to  invite  the  members  of  other  religious  de- 
nominations to  remain  to  the  communion.  With  this  custom 
Mr.  Brooks  was  in  sympathy.  When  his  brother  Arthur  came 
into  collision  with  the  bishop  of  Illinois,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Henry  J. 
Whitehouse,  who  assumed  the  right  to  forbid  such  notice  to  be 
given  and  to  enforce  the  principle  of  "close  communion"  in  the 
Episcopal  Church,  Mr.  Brooks  wrote  to  his  brother  upon  the 
principle  involved  in  giving  the  notice : 

"May  23,  1873.  If  there  are  a  considerable  number  in  the 
parish  who  object  I  should  discontinue  it,  but  certainly  take 
great  pains  to  say  in  a  sermon  at  the  same  time  what  my  real 
ground  was,  to  explain  the  perfectly  clear  position  of  our  Church 
on  the  subject,  and  not  to  seem  to  fall  low  before  the  footstool  of 
the  Bishop  at  his  first  assumption  of  authority. 


266  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"The  position  of  our  Church  is  perfectly  clear.  The  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  himself  in  the  Vance  Smith  dispute  dis- 
tinctly said  that  the  rubric  which  touches  the  question  applied 
only  to  our  own  people.  The  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  I  hope 
you  will  continue  it  unless  it  is  very  clearly  desirable  to  drop  it. 
I  would  not  give  it  up  out  of  mere  courtesy  to  any  man.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  not  so  absolutely  a  thing  of  principle  that  it  might 
not  be  omitted  if  its  use  would  seriously  wound  many  people  and 
injure  the  parish.  You  surely  have  done  right  so  far.  .  .  . 
What  an  unpleasant  Christian  Whitehouse  must  be.  .  .  .  But 
with  all  my  heart  I  sympathize  with  your  dread  of  a  controversy 
and  of  the  cheap  notoriety  and  the  disgusting  partisanship  that 
comes  with  it. 

"There  is  only  one  suggestion  I  want  to  make.  I  do  not  think 
the  notice  is  to  be  in  any  way  considered  or  to  be  either  attacked 
or  defended  as  an  addition  or  interpolation  in  the  Service.  It  is 
an  address  by  the  Minister  to  the  Congregation.  It  i.c  of  the 
nature  of  Sermon  and  not  of  Liturgy,  and  considerations  of  Litur- 
gical integrity  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  a  minister  is  to  be 
found  fault  with  for  doing  it,  it  must  be  as  he  would  be  blamed  for 
any  other  statement  that  was  considered  faulty  in  his  sermon, 
— on  the  ground  of  false  doctrine  not  of  rubrical  impropriety." 

In  the  early  seventies,  things  were  rapidly  tending  toward  a 
separatist  movement  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  The  schism  was 
consummated  in  1873  when  the  Reformed  Episcopal  Church  was 
organized  under  the  leadership  of  Bishop  Cummins  of  Kentucky- 
Despite  the  restrictive  legislation,  whose  effect  was  to  separate 
the  Episcopal  Church  from  communion  with  other  Protestant 
churches,  Mr.  Brooks  held  it  his  duty  in  whatever  way  was  open 
to  manifest  his  sympathy  for  the  principle  of  open  communion 
and  other  modes  of  Christian  fellowship.  No  canon  that  had 
been  enacted  forbade  his  preaching  in  the  churches  of  other  de- 
nominations. He  had  the  advantage  of  his  brethren  in  this 
respect  that  such  opportunities  were  constantly  afforded  him. 
He  became  conspicuous  in  representing  the  affinity  of  the  Protes- 
tant Episcopal  Church  with  other  Protestant  bodies.  To  these 
and  related  points  he  alludes  in  his  correspondence  with  Miss 
Mitchell : 

"I  have  been  off  for  a  day  down  to  Ipswich  where  Dr.  Cotton 
Smith  had  a  clerical  powwow  for  the  Dean  of  Canterbury  who  has 
come  over  to  attend  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  He  is  a  solid, 
stolid-looking  Englishman,  an  ecclesiastic  from  the  rosette  on 


PARISH  MINISTRY  267 

his  hat  to  the  buckle  on  his  shoes,  but  a  man  of  learning,  reading 
hard  Sanscrit  as  you  and  I  read  easy  English,  and  healthy  and 
wholesome  through  and  through.  Several  other  interesting  peo- 
ple are  here,  especially  a  few  famous  Germans,  Dorner,  the  'Per- 
son of  Christ'  man,  and  many  others.  But  I  do  not  think  the 
whole  occasion  promises  much,  and  I  shan't  go  on,  though  I  give 
it  my  hearty  blessing  at  this  distance."     (October  3,  1873.) 

"The  sermon  is  just  done  which  is  a  rare  event  for  Friday.  It 
it  about  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  which  seems  to  me  as  it  has 
gone  on  to  have  assumed  a  much  larger  look  than  it  had  at  first, 
and  to  be  really  a  great  and  noble  thing.  It  is  really  so  great 
that  it  can  carry  off  a  great  many  small  faults,  speeches  here  and 
there  in  bad  taste,  and  an  occasional  piece  of  bad  temper.  I  can- 
not see  how  such  a  meeting  can  fail  to  make  Christianity  stronger 
and  broader."     (October  9,  1873.) 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  Bishop  of  Madagascar  turning  up  in 
New  York  and  writing  a  letter  to  Bishop  Potter,  complaining 
that  the  Dean  of  Canterbury  had  insulted  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury?  There  is  a  roundabout  confession  and  ingenious  \ 
intricacy  about  it  all  which  is  nuts  to  the  ecclesiastical  mind. 
One  may  count  upon  no  end  of  dreary  controversy  about  whether 
Christ  is  willing  that  Dean  Payne  Smith  should  eat  the  Lord's 
Supper  in  an  Episcopal  Church,  but  not  in  Dr.  Adams's  Presby- 
terian Meeting  House.  As  if  all  the  great  questions  of  faith  and 
morals  were  settled,  and  that  one  minute  squabble  was  the  last 
thing  left.  Surely  not  till  then  will  it  begin  to  be  of  conse- 
quence."    (October  15,  1873.) 

"  I  don't  know  anything  that  makes  one  feel  more  genuinely  old 
than  to  see  that  great  recognizable  changes  and  advances  of  the 
current  of  thought  have  been  made  in  our  time,  so  that  while  we 
see  the  new  we  can  remember  the  old  as  something  different.  It 
used  to  seem  as  if  such  changes  took  a  half  century  at  least. 
Only  fourteen  years  ago  when  I  entered  the  ministry  there  were 
the  two  old-fashioned  parties,  the  Lows  and  Highs,  over  against 
each  other  in  a  quiet,  intelligent,  comfortable  way.  Now  you  can 
hardly  find  a  representative  of  either  among  the  younger  men 

except ,  and  the  Broad  Churchmen  and  Ritualists  divide  the 

field.  Let  us  be  thankful  that  we  belong  to  the  party  of  the 
future."     (December  11,  1873.) 

"I  hear  that is  dead:  another  of  that  fading  school  of 

Evangelicals  who  are  fast  passing  away.  One  of  the  best  of  them 
(the  Evangelicals)  died  the  other  day,  my  old  professor  and  friend 
at  Alexandria,  Dr.  Sparrow,  one  of  the  ablest  and  best  men  I  ever 


268  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

knew,  learned  and  broad,  and  as  simple  as  a  child.  I  had  a  letter 
from  the  dear  old  man,  dated  only  two  days  before  he  died,  in 
which  I  was  delighted  to  hear  him  say,  'I  am  disposed  to  regard 
the  prospects  of  our  Church  brighter  now  than  they  have  ever 
been  in  my  day.'  All  the  old  men  are  croaking  and  helpless,  and 
it  was  good  to  hear  one  of  them  sanguine."     (January  22,  1874.) 

In  May,  1874,  the  first  steps  were  taken  toward  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  American  Church  Congress.  The  aim  of  its 
founders  was  to  bring  men  together  who  differed  in  their  con- 
victions, to  discuss  questions  which  were  subjects  of  controversy 
in  free  untrammelled  speech,  in  the  hope  that  it  would  lead  to  a 
mutual  confidence  and  understanding.  Churchmen  of  all  schools 
of  opinion  were  present,  and  amid  much  earnestness  and  enthu- 
siasm the  new  institution  was  organized.  Mr.  Brooks  was  placed 
upon  its  Central  Committee  whose  task  was  to  select  topics  for 
discussion  and  appoint  the  speakers. 

"  Next  week  we  go  to  New  Haven,  all  of  us  Broad  Churchmen, 
to  see  what  can  be  done  to  keep  or  make  the  Church  liberal  and 
free.  There  is  a  curious  sort  of  sensitiveness  and  expectancy 
everywhere  in  the  Church,  a  sort  of  fear  and  feeling  that  things 
cannot  remain  forever  just  as  they  are  now,  and  a  general  looking 
to  the  General  Convention  of  next  Fall  as  the  critical  time.  The 
last  impression  may  be  wrong  because  General  Conventions  are 
not  apt  to  be  critical,  but  the  other  feeling  has  its  foundation,  and 
one  wonders  what  is  coming  out  of  it  all.  Certainly  some  sort  of 
broad  church.  A  meeting  such  as  this  I  speak  of  could  not  have 
been  possible  ten  years  ago.  Then  the  men  could  not  have  been 
found  to  go;  now  men  are  asking  to  be  invited."  (May  12, 
1874.) 

The  Convention  of  the  diocese  of  Massachusetts  which  met 
in  May  to  elect  a  successor  to  Bishop  Eastburn  reflected  the 
stormy  times  which  were  passing  over  the  Episcopal  Church. 
The  High  Church  candidate  was  the  Rev.  James  De  Koven 
of  Wisconsin.  Mr.  Brooks  wanted  Dr.  Vinton  to  be  the  Low 
Church  candidate,  and  when  he  declined  voted  for  his  friend 
Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter  of  Grace  Church,  New  York.  When  it 
became  evident  that  Dr.  Potter  could  not  be  elected,  a  compro- 
mise was  effected  by  which  the  choice  of  the  Convention  fell 
on  the  Rev.  Benjamin  H.  Paddock  of  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  The 
Convention  was  a  memorable  one  for  the  intensity  of  feeling 


PARISH  MINISTRY  269 

which  prevailed.  Among  the  speeches  there  was  one  not  easily 
forgotten  by  those  present,  in  which  the  Rev.  William  R.  Hunt- 
ington of  Worcester  presented  the  name  of  Phillips  Brooks,  as  a 
man  surpassing  all  others  who  had  been  named  for  the  vacant 
Episcopate.  But  the  time  for  Phillips  Brooks  had  not  yet 
come.     To  the  bishop-elect,  he  wrote  pledging  his  support: 

"  Hotel  Kempton,  Berkeley  Street,  Boston,  May  ai,  1873. 

"Rev.  and  dear  Sir, — I  have  doubted  whether  I  have  any 
right  to  add  another  to  the  multitude  of  letters  which  I  know  you 
must  have  received  with  reference  to  your  election  to  our  episco- 
pate. But  I  feel  so  deeply  anxious  that  you  should  consent  to  be 
our  Bishop  that  I  venture  to  add  my  assurance  of  cordial  welcome 
and  hearty  cooperation  to  all  the  others  which  must  have  come  to 
you.  I  think  I  know  Massachusetts  pretty  well,  and  I  am  deeply 
convinced  that  our  Church  has  a  great  and  good  work  to  do  here. 
She  will  not  do  it  easily,  nor  by  simply  standing  still  in  idle  as- 
sertion of  herself,  but  if  she  will  work  for  the  people,  the  people 
will  understand  her  readily  enough.  I  am  sure  that  all  the  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  your  election  promise  a  cordial  and 
unpartisan  support  of  all  your  plans  and  labors  by  both  the 
Clergy  and  the  Laity  of  our  diocese,  and  knowing  this  I  have 
ventured  to  express  to  you  my  own  sincere  and  anxious  hope 
that  you  may  be  able  to  come  to  us. 

"I  beg  you  not  to  trouble  yourself  to  answer  this  note,  but 
believe  me,  with  much  regard, 

"  Most  sincerely  yours, 

"  Phillips  Brooks, 
"  Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston." 

These  extracts  are  from  his  correspondence  with  Miss  Mitchell : 

"The  worst  thing  that  I  see  about  getting  old,  or  older,  is  that 
you  get  further  away  from  the  young  people  who  are  the  best 
people  in  the  world.  I  never  see  a  lot  of  boys  without  wanting 
to  be  among  them,  and  wishing  they  would  let  me  into  their  com- 
pany and  being  sure  that  they  won't.  I  hate  to  think  that  boys 
of  sixteen  think  of  me  as  I  used  to  think  of  men  of  thirty-seven 
when  I  was  their  age.  Most  of  the  wisdom  of  old  age  is  humbug. 
I  was  struck  dreadfully  by  what  you  said  about  the  prevalent  dis- 
content with  life  that  one  hears  so  much  of.  It  's  awful,  and  is 
the  most  unchristian  thing  one  has  to  deal  with.  I  fancied  it 
was  more  the  fashion  here,  but  I  suppose  I  have  forgotten  how 
much  of  the  same  thing  I  used  to  hear  in  Philadelphia,  or  perhaps 
it  did  not  impress  me  so  much  then.  I  pray  God  that  I  may  die 
before  I  get  so  tired  of  living." 


27o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"I  have  just  been  going  again  through  Hessey's  Bampton  Lec- 
tures. A  good  conscience  is  the  best  guide  about  keeping  Sunday 
or  enforcing  it  in  others.  There  is  very  little  indeed  in  the  way 
of  positive  law  to  be  made  out  about  it.  It  seems  to  me  there  is  a 
strange  lack  of  faith  in  the  way  that  the  strict  Inspirationists  and 
the  stricter  Sabbatarians  are  always  in  a  panic  lest  the  Book  or  the 
Day,  which  they  above  all  others  claim  for  God,  should  come  to 
grief." 

"  '  Keil  on  the  Kings  '  is  a  very  good  commentary  as  commen- 
taries go,  a  little  overburdened  with  linguistics,  but  on  the  whole 
telling  you  (I  mean  me)  rather  less  of  what  I  know  already  and 
more  of  what  I  don't  than  most  commentaries.  But  they  are  all 
a  poor  set.  Lange  has  a  good  deal  that  is  interesting  and  valu- 
able, but,  bless  me,  who  could  n't  have  a  few  pennies  if  he  swept 
all  the  gutters  in  town  and  saved  all  the  rubbish." 

"I  am  just  come  back  from  Andover  where  I  went  to  lecture  to 
the  Congregational  Divinity  Students  about  Preaching.  .  .  . 
They  ask  hard  questions  which  you  rather  despair  of  answering, 
not  because  of  the  difficulty  of  the  question,  but  because  it  shows 
such  a  queer  state  of  mind  in  the  questioner.  I  stayed  with 
Professor  Park,  who  is  charming,  bright,  witty,  and  genial.  .  .  . 
Have  you  read  a  book  about  Dissent  by  an  English  Bampton 
lecturer  ? ' ' 

"How  interesting  and  beautiful  Tom  Hughes's  little  book  is! 
[Memoirs  of  a  Brother.]  I  wonder  whether  the  brother  was  as 
good  as  he  is  described.  What  he  (the  brother)  actually  does  in 
the  way  of  letters,  etc.,  did  n't  strike  me  much.  He  is  the  first 
man  on  record,  I  think,  who  ever  dedicated  his  life  to  the  health 
of  his  Mother-in-law." 

"I  am  busy  writing  what  is  a  sort  of  Biographical  Oration  for 
what  is  after  a  fashion  my  native  town,  Andover.  It  is  to  be 
delivered  at  the  opening  of  their  Memorial  Hall  next  week.  I 
don't  like  the  work.  Sermons  I  like  to  write,  the  more  the  bet- 
ter, as  many  as  the  deluded  folk  will  sit  and  hear,  but  anything 
else  except  this  weekly  letter  comes  hard.  I  have  a  pretty  obsti- 
nacy when  I  am  asked  to  do  anything  right  away,  but  when  the 
task  is  three  months  off,  I  am  apt  to  be  feeble  and  assent,  and  by 
and  by  the  day  comes  on  like  Fate." 

"I  have  been  much  interested  in  reading  up  about  the  old  Puri- 
tan town.  What  a  curious  set  they  were.  So  estimable  and  so 
deadly  dull,  sober  and  serious  to  a  degree  that  is  frightful  to  think 
of,  but  strong  and  tough  as  granite.     The  modern  religion  looks 


PARISH  MINISTRY  271 

so  gentle  beside  them.  I  came  across  this  sentence  yesterday  in 
that  most  unpleasant  book,  Galton's  'Hereditary  Genius,'  which 
has  just  a  vexatious  amount  of  truth  in  it,  'A  gently  complaining 
and  tired  spirit  is  that  in  which  Evangelical  Divines  are  apt  to 
pass  their  days.'.  .  .  X made  a  prayer  at  the  new  Hall  to- 
day in  which  he  thanked  the  Lord  for  the  workmen  who  had  been 
engaged  upon  the  building,  that '  He  had  given  his  angels  charge 
over  them  that  none  of  them  should  strike  his  foot  against  a 
stone.'  What  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  reverent  and  beautiful 
use  of  Scripture  ? ' ' 

"I  wonder  what  sort  of  knowledge  we  shall  have  of  our  friends 
when  we  get  to  the  other  side,  and  what  we  shall  do  to  keep  up 
our  intimacy  with  one  another.  There  will  be  one  good  thing 
about  it.  I  suppose  we  shall  see  right  through  one  another  to 
begin  with,  and  start  off  on  quite  a  new  basis  of  mutual  under- 
standing. It  will  be  awful  at  first,  but  afterwards  it  must  be 
quiet  pleasant  to  feel  that  your  friends  know  the  worst  of  you  and 
not  be  continually  in  danger  and  in  fear  that  they  will  find  you 
out.  But  then  with  all  Eternity  ahead  there  must  be  a  constantly 
oppressive  fear  that  your  friends  will  get  tired  of  you." 

"Nobody  can  help  feeling  Agassiz's  death.  Apart  from  the 
scientific  greatness,  he  was  such  a  delightful  man,  so  fresh  and 
joyous  and  simple.  It  does  surely  seem  as  if  he  had  gone  at  the 
right  time,  falling  without  decay  and  setting  without  twilight. 
'T  is  strange  to  see  how  many  people  knew  him  here,  and  how 
many  others  feel  as  if  they  had  known  him  and  mourn  his  death 
as  a  personal  loss.     It  was  a  good,  cheerful,  wholesome  life. 

"Three  weeks  from  to-night  I  hope  to  start  for  Philadelphia. 
Fix  which  night  you  will  for  me  to  dine  with  you,  and  I  will  come 
up  to  the  trial  without  a  flinch.  .  .  .  Sunday  I  shall  give  to  my 
old  Advent  folk  whom  I  am  proud  to  find  caring  for  me  after  so 
many  years.  ...  I  am  glad  that  the  Bible  does  n't  say  anything 
about  the  idle  words  which  people  write." 

"I  have  come  home  from  a  Wednesday  evening  lecture,  which 
I  always  enjoy;  the  only  indication  that  I  have  that  the  people 
enjoy  it  is  that  they  come  in  large  numbers.  Though  they  may 
talk  about  it  among  themselves,  I  myself  never  get  any  idea 
whether  I  hit  them  or  not.  Still  I  jog  on  and  am  very  cheerful. 
I  don't  care  for  applause,  but  I  do  like  to  have  some  idea  whether 
people  are  interested  or  not." 

"Charles  Kingsley  is  here,  and  lectured  to  us  on  Monday 
evening.  It  was  good  to  see  the  author  of  '  Hypatia '  in  the  flesh, 
but  the  Lecture  was  n't  much,  and  he  is  the  Englishest  of  English- 


272  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

men.  Then  his  laudation  of  this  country  was  overmuch,  and 
we  were  unnecessarily  reminded  of  how  he  hated  us  and  hoped 
good  things  for  the  rebellion  during  our  war." 

"How  sad  this  sudden  news  of  Sumner's  death,  and  how  it 
makes  us  realize  the  lack  of  great  men  among  us.  And  cer- 
tainly Sumner  was  in  many  respects  a  great  man.  The  time  of 
his  departure  like  Agassiz's  seems  to  be  just  what  one  would 
wish  for  him.  Neither  of  them  was  a  man  whom  one  would  like 
to  see  crawling  about  in  decrepitude." 

"Poor  Sumner's  funeral  was  a  wonderful  outburst  of  public 
feeling  about  a  man  who  had  won  it  by  sheer  force  of  character 
and  principle.  He  was  never  popular  .  .  .  but  true  as  steel 
and  capable  of  ideas.  The  country  is  not  as  bad  as  you  think 
it.  Certainly  no  other  land  offers  us  anything  to  envy.  Have 
you  read  the  book  of  a  Mr.  Pater  on  the  Renaissance?  It  is 
wonderfully  fresh  and  full  of  its  subject.  Then  I  got  a  book  of 
Masson's  the  other  day  on  Drummond  of  Hawthornden,  of  which 
I  have  read  a  few  pages  that  promise  something  charming." 

"I  am  in  the  thick  of  Lent,  with  the  usual  enjoyment  of  its 
spirit,  and  the  usual  misgiving  about  the  way  in  which  we  try  to 
make  it  useful  to  our  people.  It  is  trying  to  see  how,  just  as 
soon  as  we  attempt  to  give  religion  its  fit  expression,  we  are 
instantly  in  danger  of  formalism  and  the  mere  piety  of  outside 
habits.  Yet  still  there  is  a  great  deal  in  changing  habits  which 
mean  sad  things,  for  habits  which  mean  good  things,  for  a  little 
while,  and  some  of  the  meaning  does  get  into  people's  hearts.  .  .  . 

"  How  hard  it  is  to  write  an  Easter  sermon.  The  associations 
of  the  day  are  so  dependent  that  it  is  really  difficult  to  bring 
it  close  to  people's  lives.     But  it  is  remarkable  how  men  like 

your  friend ,  who  give  up  so  much  about  Jesus,  still  cling  to 

the  truth  of  the  Resurrection." 

"We  have  had  Principal  Tulloch  here.  He  was  at  our  Church 
last  Sunday,  and  I  spent  the  evening  with  him  at  Mr.  Winthrop's. 
I  want  you  to  see  him  when  he  comes  to  Philadelphia.  He  is  a 
splendid  Scotchman."     (April  30,  1874.)  l 

One  incident  mentioned  in  the  above  extracts  calls  for  some 
slight  expansion, — the  address  delivered  at  the  dedication  of 
the  Memorial  Hall  in  Andover.  Apart  from  his  association 
with  the  civil  war,  or  his  fame  as  a  pulpit  orator,  Phillips  Brooks 

1  Here  closes  the  correspondence  with  Miss  Mitchell.  She  died  soon 
after  the  letter  was  written  from  which  this  extract  is  taken. 


PARISH  MINISTRY  273 

had  been  chosen  as  spokesman  for  the  occasion  as  the  descendant 
of  those  connected  with  the  town  from  its  earliest  history. 
He  was  thus  referred  to  by  Professor  Park  in  the  prayer  which 
followed  the  address:  "It  is  of  Thy  goodness,  O  Lord,  that  we 
have  been  permitted  on  this  day  of  our  solemnity  to  hear  the 
voice  of  one  whose  godly  ancestors  our  fathers  delighted  to 
honor."  His  address  was  pervaded  with  a  joyous  tone,  with 
the  conviction  that  he  had  a  right  to  speak,  and  that  in  speaking 
he  represented  what  was  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers : 

"If  I  wanted  to  give  a  foreigner  some  clear  idea  of  what  that 
excellent  institution,  a  New  England  town,  really  is,  in  its  history 
and  its  character,  in  its  enterprise  and  its  sobriety,  in  its  godli- 
ness and  its  manliness,  I  should  be  sure  that  I  could  do  it  if  I 
could  make  him  perfectly  familiar  with  the  past  and  present  of 
Andover.  Nor  can  one  know  the  old  town  well  and  not  feel,  how- 
ever, that  its  scenery  has  the  same  typical  sort  of  value  which 
belongs  to  all  its  life.  All  that  is  most  characteristic  in  our  New 
England  landscape  finds  its  representation  here.  Its  rugged 
granite  breaks  with  hard  lines  through  the  stubborn  soil,  its  sweep 
of  hill  and  valley  fills  the  eye  with  various  beauty.  Its  lakes 
catch  the  sunlight  on  their  generous  bosoms.  Its  rivers  are  New 
England  rivers  ready  for  work  and  yet  not  destitute  of  beauty. 
If  everywhere  our  New  England  scenery  suggests  to  the  imagina- 
tion that  is  sensitive  to  such  impressions  some  true  resemblance 
to  the  nature  of  the  people  who  grow  up  among  its  pictures, 
nowhere  are  such  suggestions  clearer  than  in  this  town  which  is 
so  thoroughly  part  and  parcel  of  New  England." 

Phillips  Brooks  was  averse  to  writing  essays,  theological  or 
other.  The  greater  interest  attaches,  therefore,  to  those  he  was 
sometimes  compelled  to  write.  In  October,  1873,  he  read  before 
the"Clericus  Club"  an  essay  on  "Heresy."  He  distinguished 
between  the  New  Testament  use  of  the  word,  and  the  ecclesi- 
astical, holding  the  latter  conception  to  be  impossible  without 
an  infallible  church.  The  moral  conception  of  heresy,  which 
implies  personal  guilt,  no  longer  applies  to  the  honest  seeker 
for  truth  who  may  depart  from  a  certain  average  of  Christian 
belief. 

"  In  ordinary  talk  men  will  speak  of  heresy  as  if  it  were  synony- 
mous with  error.  It  may  be  that  the  word  is  so  bound  up  with 
old  notions  of  authority  that  it  must  be  considered  obsolete,  and 


274  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

can  be  of  little  further  use.  And  yet  there  is  a  sin  which  this 
word  describes,  which  it  describes  to  Paul  and  Augustine  and 
Jeremy  Taylor, — a  sin  as  rampant  in  our  day  as  in  theirs.  It  is 
the  self-will  of  the  intellect.  It  is  the  belief  of  creeds,  whether 
they  be  true  or  false,  because  we  choose  them,  and  not  because 
God  declares  them.  It  is  the  saying,  'I  want  this  to  be  true,' 
of  any  doctrine  so  vehemently  that  we  forget  to  ask,  '  Is  it  true? ' 
When  we  do  this,  we  depart  from  the  Christian  church,  which  is 
the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the  discipleship  of  Christ.  With  the 
danger  of  that  sin  before  our  eyes,  remembering  how  often  we 
have  committed  it,  feeling  its  temptation  ever  present  with  us, 
we  may  still  pray  with  all  our  hearts,  '  From  heresy,  good  Lord, 
deliver  us.' 

Among  the  incidents  whose  bond  of  connection  is  Phillips 
Brooks,  there  is  one  which  caused  at  the  moment  a  flutter  in 
Episcopal  circles  in  Boston, — the  occupation  of  King's  Chapel 
on  Ash  Wednesday,  1874,  by  an  Episcopal  congregation.  The 
famous  building  was  crowded  with  an  eager,  curious  audience, 
studying  the  ancient  structure,  its  chancel  and  communion  table, 
its  reading  desk  and  pulpit,  preserved  unchanged,  unimpaired 
by  modern  improvements,  since  the  day  when  Episcopal  rectors 
presided  there,  in  this  first  home  of  Episcopacy  in  Boston.  It 
had  been  offered  to  Phillips  Brooks,  as  the  rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  for  the  delivery  of  the  Price  Lectures,  the  condition  of 
whose  endowment  required  that  the  lectures  be  given  either  in 
Christ  Church,  King's  Chapel,  or  Trinity  Church.  The  kind  offer 
came  from  the  late  Rev.  Henry  W.  Foote,  then  the  minister  of 
King's  Chapel,  a  man  of  beautiful  and  saintly  character,  beloved 
by  all  who  knew  him,  whose  death  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood 
brought  the  deepest  sense  of  loss  and  sorrow.  Bishop  Paddock 
had  already  been  invited  to  deliver  the  Price  Lecture  before  Mr. 
Foote  had  offered  the  use  of  his  church,  and  so  it  came  about 
that  a  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Church  officiated  for  the  first 
time  in  King's  Chapel. 

The  summer  of  1874  was  spent  in  Europe.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks,  and  for  a  great  part  of  the  sum- 
mer they  were  together.  Several  weeks  were  given  to  England. 
The  traditional  American  prejudice  against  the  English,  which 
he  had  hitherto  shared,  to  some  extent,  was  disappearing.  It  was 
mostly  the  clergy  with  whom  he  mixed,  but  he  remarks  that 


PARISH  MINISTRY  275 

clergymen  and  laymen  have  more  common  interests  than  in 
America.  They  were  talking  much  at  this  time  about  the  Pub- 
lic Worship  Bill  at  dinner  tables  and  in  the  newspapers,  which 
surprises  him,  as  things  of  this  kind  at  home  are  ordinarily  con- 
fined to  General  Conventions.  His  acquaintance  with  Dean 
Stanley  was  now  ripening  into  friendship.  He  was  invited  by 
the  Dean  to  preach  in  the  Abbey,  for  the  fame  of  the  preacher 
had  reached  England,  and  many  were  desirous  to  hear  him.  The 
nave  of  the  Abbey  was  filled.  The  subject  of  the  sermon  was 
"The  Positiveness  of  the  Divine  Life,"  the  text  taken  from  Gala- 
tians  v.  16 :  "This  I  say  then,  Walk  in  the  Spirit  and  ye  shall  not 
fulfil  the  lust  of  the  flesh."  The  following  comment  furnishes  a 
picture  of  the  occasion: 

"About  six  o'clock  p.m.  we  all  started  for  church  service  at  old 
Westminster  Abbey  where  Phillips  Brooks  of  Boston  was  adver- 
tised to  preach  at  seven  o'clock.  We  went  quite  early  anticipat- 
ing a  crowd,  and  secured  a  tolerably  good  position.  The  nave  of 
the  church  where  the  services  are  held  on  Sunday  evenings  was 
very  soon  crowded.  There  was  a  choral  service  by  men  and  boys. 
Dean  Stanley  read  the  Lessons  and  Mr.  Brooks  preached.  .  .  . 
It  is  a  very  hard  place  to  preach  in  .  .  .  but  he  was  distinctly 
heard,  and  the  sermon  was  worthy  of  his  reputation.  It  was  a 
plain,  practical  enforcement  of  the  great  truths  of  his  text,  enun- 
ciated in  simple  yet  elegant  language,  and  altogether  such  a  style 
of  preaching  as  those  old  walls  are  not  accustomed  to.  There 
may  be  better  preachers  here  than  the  Rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  but  if  so  we  have  yet  to  hear  them.  We  reached  home 
soon  after  nine,  grateful  that  we  had  had  the  privilege  of  hearing 
Mr.  Brooks  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  still  more  grateful  that 
God  had  given  to  Boston  such  a  man  and  such  a  preacher." 

From  London  he  passed  to  the  Continent,  wandering  through 
Normandy  and  Brittany,  thence  to  Venice,  and  back  through 
the  Tyrol  over  the  Ampezzo  Pass  that  he  had  long  wanted  to  see. 
The  sense  of  vacation,  he  writes,  was  complete  and  made  Boston 
seem  far  away.  The  main  interest  was  in  looking  at  churches 
in  Normandy  and  Brittany ;  he  was  gathering  suggestions  which 
would  afterwards  be  of  service. 

"We  went  up  to  Rouen  and  spent  a  lovely  day  among  its  old 
Gothic  architecture.  There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  in  Europe. 
Then  we  struck  off  into  the  country  and  for  a  week  we  have  been 


276  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

wandering  among  old  Norman  towns  .  .  .  each  with  its  churches 
six  or  eight  hundred  years  old,  some  with  magnificent  cathedrals. 
.  .  .  For  a  week  we  have  wandered  on  through  Brittany,  looked 
at  old  castles  and  cathedrals.  ...  I  have  been  amazed  at  the 
richness  of  the  old  architecture  of  the  country.  In  little  out-of- 
the-way  villages,  reached  only  by  rickety  country  wagons,  we  have 
found  glorious  and  immense  churches  of  rarest  beauty, — churches 
that  took  centuries  to  build,  and  stand  to-day  perfect  in  their 
splendor,  with  wonderful  glass  in  their  windows,  and  columns  and 
capitals  that  take  your  breath  away  for  beauty." 

As  he  wandered  he  was  thinking  of  the  new  Trinity  Church 
in  Boston  that  was  growing  in  his  absence.  To  Mr.  Robert 
Treat  Paine  he  wrote: 

"  Tours,  France,  August  4,  1874. 
"...  And  how's  the  new  Church?  I  dreamed  of  it  when 
I  wrote  to  you  from  London,  and  now  I  dream  of  it  again, 
slowly  rising,  course  on  course.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  the 
robing  room  were  done  up  to  the  eaves,  but  I  would  give  much 
to  step  out  of  the  hotel  and  look  in  the  gorgeous  moonlight  at 
that  blessed  lot  on  the  Back  Bay.  Sometimes  I  am  very  impa- 
tient at  being  away  while  it  is  all  going  on,  but  I  comfort  myself 
with  promises  of  coming  home  to  harder  work  with  the  first 
Sunday  in  October.  ..." 

No  traveller  returns  to  his  own  country,  when  the  long  ocean 
passage  intervenes,  without  some  measure  of  suspense  or  mis- 
giving, lest  bad  news  await  him  on  his  arrival.  For  Mr.  Brooks 
there  was  in  reserve  a  great  sorrow,  in  the  sudden  death  of  his 
brother  Frederick.  The  story  is  told  in  his  father's  words, 
entered  in  a  family  record,  where  he  chronicled  briefly  the  events 
in  the  lives  of  his  sons : 

"In  September,  1874,  he  came  to  the  city  to  see  a  young  friend 
who  was  sick,  and  who  was  to  take  charge  of  a  school  at  Cleve- 
land. Finding  him  unable,  he  went  to  Lowell  for  a  teacher 
September  15.  On  returning  from  there  in  the  Boston  &  Lowell 
train  he  left  the  train  at  East  Cambridge,  intending  to  walk 
home  on  the  railroad  bridge.  The  night  being  dark  he  fell 
through  the  draw  and  was  drowned.  This  was  about  8.30  p.m. 
He  was  thirty-two  years  of  age.  The  body  was  not  found  until 
the  20th  in  the  Charles  River.  Funeral  services  were  held  Sep- 
tember 24,  at  Emmanuel  Church,  and  he  was  laid  in  Mount 
Auburn." 


PARISH  MINISTRY  277 

The  friendship  between  these  two  brothers  was  close  and 
beautiful.  The  older  brother  had  followed  with  sympathetic 
interest  every  step  of  the  younger  brother's  progress,  from  his 
days  in  the  Latin  School,  and  then  through  Harvard  College. 
Two  years  they  had  lived  together  while  Frederick  Brooks  was 
at  the  Divinity  School  in  Philadelphia.  For  the  aid,  the  sym- 
pathy, the  brotherly  love  he  received,  the  younger  brother 
showed  his  appreciation,  as  when  he  wrote  to  Phillips:  "I  wish 
you  would  let  me  say  what  a  jump  I  give  to  get  one  of  your 
letters.  They  are  one  of  the  things  that  help  along  my  year 
mightily."  From  the  time  of  his  ordination,  Frederick  Brooks 
was  recognized  as  a  preacher  of  singular  attractiveness.  Calls 
to  various  parishes  had  been  the  evidence  that  he  was  believed 
to  have  some  important  work  to  do.  For  a  time  he  had  been 
at  Des  Moines,  Iowa,  to  get  a  touch  of  Western  life;  then  he 
became  rector  of  a  prominent  church,  St.  Paul's,  in  Cleveland, 
Ohio.  To  the  interests  of  this  church  he  gave,  says  his  brother, 
"devoted  care,  proving  himself  a  rare  pastor  and  preacher, 
helping  and  teaching  many  souls,  and  building  his  parish  work 
with  singular  solidity  and  power."  He  became  editor  of  the 
Standard  of  the  Cross,  and  gave  the  paper  "a  marked  and  noble 
character."  His  inherited  interest  in  education  led  him  to  estab- 
lish a  school  in  Cleveland,  which  should  give  the  best  classical 
preparation. 

The  loss  of  his  brother  and  the  mode  of  his  death  was  a  nervous 
shock  from  which  Phillips  Brooks  did  not  quickly  recover.  To 
a  friend  sending  him  a  letter  of  condolence  he  wrote : 

"These  three  weeks  since  I  came  home  have  been,  just  between 
ourselves,  pretty  wretched.  I  have  tried  and  tried  to  get  out  of 
my  mind  the  dreadful  circumstances  of  it  all.  When  I  can 
shut  them  out  for  a  moment  and  think  only  of  his  life  here  and 
the  life  he  has  begun  beyond  I  am  more  than  happy.  I  am 
thankful  and  full  of  rejoicing.  But  almost  all  the  time  the 
terrible  scene  is  before  me,  and  I  think  I  have  come  nearer  to 
being  gloomy  and  out  of  heart  with  life  than  I  ever  did  before. 
But  I  have  n't  been  and  I  shan't  be." 

On  Sunday  the  25th  of  October  Mr.  Brooks  stood  in  his 
brother's  pulpit  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  preaching  in  the  morning 


278  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

from  the  text,  "Are  the  consolations  of  God  small  with  thee?" 
(Job  xv.  n),1  and  in  the  afternoon  another  well-known  sermon, 
with  the  title,  "The  good  will  of  him  that  dwelt  in  the  bush" 
(Deut.  xxxiii.  16.)2  Again  in  the  evening  he  preached,  and  his 
text  was,  "  It  became  Him,  for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom 
are  all  things,  ...  to  make  the  captain  of  their  salvation  per- 
fect through  sufferings"  (Heb.  ii.  10).  This  was  the  record  of  a 
day  to  be  remembered  by  the  preacher  and  his  hearers.  Another 
duty  devolved  upon  him,  to  visit  the  deserted  room  where  the 
traces  of  activity  suddenly  interrupted  were  all  about  him.  Into 
his  musings,  as  he  sat  there  alone  with  memory,  we  do  not  enter. 
He  looked  over  the  sermons  of  his  brother,  and  from  them 
selected  a  volume  for  publication.  In  the  preface,  he  alluded 
briefly  to  the  beauty  and  power  of  his  life.  At  a  later  time,  when 
writing  his  Lectures  on  Preaching,  he  made  this  terse  reference 
without  further  explanation,  "To-day  I  have  been  thinking  of 
one  whom  I  knew, — nay,  one  whom  I  know, — who  finished  his 
work  and  went  to  God." 

During  more  than  four  years  the  congregation  of  Trinity 
Church  worshipped  in  Huntington  Hall  on  Boylston  Street,  de- 
prived of  the  accessories  which  tend  to  make  religion  impressive. 
But  there  were  compensations  in  the  heartier  and  freer  worship. 
There  came  a  change  so  marked  in  the  direction  and  the  mani- 
festation of  Brooks's  power  that  these  years  were  not  remem- 
bered as  a  period  of  deprivation  of  ecclesiastical  privileges,  but 
cherished  for  the  richer  spiritual  influence  which  they  brought. 
The  secular  hall  took  on  a  sacred  character.  The  preacher  rose 
high  above  disadvantage  or  limitation.  The  afternoon  service 
soon  began  to  be  as  well  attended  as  the  morning,  nor  were  the 
accommodations  sufficient  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  throng- 
ing congregation.  It  was  a  reminder  of  the  early  da3^s  of  the 
Christian  Church,  when  it  lacked  temples  and  altars  and  the  sym- 
bolic pageantry  of  the  later  centuries,  when  the  spoken  word 
was  in  itself  adequate  to  reach  the  intellect  and  melt  the  heart. 
But  it  should  be  mentioned  as  an  instance  of  his  dependence  upon 
associations,  that  he  sent  to  Philadelphia  for  the  lecturn  or  preach- 
ing desk  at  which  he  had  stood  when  delivering  his  Wednesday 
evening  lectures. 

>  Sermons,  vol.  i.,  p.  98.  2  Ibid.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  39. 


PARISH  MINISTRY  279 

There  was  always  a  curious  interest  to  know  the  methods  by 
which  Mr.  Brooks  did  his  work.  Every  sermon  showed  the  sense 
of  form,  together  with  literary  charm,  and  abundance  of  thought 
and  illustration;  and  was  marked  by  spontaneity  and  ease,  as 
though  it  had  called  for  no  effort  in  its  preparation.  Now  that 
we  know  the  process,  the  secret  appears  a  simple  one.  Preach- 
ing was  the  exclusive  object  that  occupied  his  mind, — the  mes- 
sage to  be  delivered  and  the  form  it  should  take.  From  morning 
till  night,  in  hours  of  leisure  or  apparent  relaxation,  on  his  jour- 
neys, in  vacations,  in  social  gatherings,  he  was  thinking  of  sub- 
jects for  sermons,  turning  over  new  aspects  of  old  truths,  with 
the  purpose  of  giving  better  form  than  had  yet  been  given  to  old 
familiar  doctrine.  In  a  word,  preaching  was  what  he  lived  for, 
and  for  that  cause  he  might  almost  be  said  to  have  come  into 
the  world.  Beneath  the  trifling  manner,  the  deep  undertone  of 
his  spirit  was  sounding  without  cessation. 

He  made  careful  and  even  elaborate  preparation  for  every  occa- 
sional address.  In  every  case  the  analysis  of  his  remarks  may 
be  found  in  note-books  or  on  detached  sheets  of  paper.  It  seems 
to  have  been  a  first  principle  with  him  not  to  allow  himself  to 
feel  that  it  would  be  given  to  him,  when  called  upon,  what  he 
should  speak.  If  there  seemed  to  be  exceptions  to  this  rule, 
they  were  only  apparent;  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  elaborate 
preparation  had  been  made  some  time  in  advance  of  the  occasion. 

After  coming  to  Boston  he  wrote  but  one  sermon  a  week  and 
to  this  sermon  devoted  the  best  part  of  every  morning.  Before 
Monday  came  he  had  the  text  in  his  mind  on  which  he  was  to 
write.  If  he  had  failed  to  secure  his  text  or  subject  before  the 
week  began,  he  knew  there  was  danger  of  failing  to  produce  a 
sermon.  It  was  his  custom  on  Monday  morning  to  have  his 
friends  about  him,  for  that  was  his  day  of  rest.  But  as  they  sat 
in  his  study  and  the  conversation  ran  on,  his  mind  did  not  lose 
sight  of  the  idea  which  inspired  him.  On  the  mornings  of  Mon- 
day and  Tuesday  he  was  bringing  together  in  his  note-book  or 
on  scraps  of  paper  the  thoughts  or  illustrations  related  to  his 
leading  thought,  collecting,  as  he  called  it,  the  material  for  the 
sermon.  Wednesday  morning  he  devoted  entire  to  writing  out 
the  plan  which  he  would  follow.  He  took  a  half  sheet  of  ser- 
mon paper,  folding  it  once,  thus  making  four  small  pages,  some 


28o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

seven  inches  by  less  than  five  in  their  dimensions,  which  he  was 
to  fill.  These  he  invariably  filled  out  to  the  last  remaining  space 
on  the  last  page,  as  though  only  in  this  way  he  could  be  sure 
that  he  had  sufficient  material  for  his  sermon.  So  condensed  is 
the  handwriting  that  each  one  of  these  plans  will  average  about 
one  thousand  words, — in  itself  a  short  sermon.  Each  plan  con- 
tained when  it  was  finished  a  dozen  or  more  detached  para- 
graphs. His  next  task — and  this  is  the  most  curious  feature  of 
all — was  to  go  over  the  paragraphs,  each  of  which  contained  a 
distinct  idea,  and  was  to  become,  when  expanded,  a  paragraph 
in  the  finished  sermon,  placing  over  against  each  the  number  of 
pages  it  would  occupy  when  it  had  been  amplified.  Then  he 
added  the  numbers  together.  Thirty  pages  was  the  limit  of  the 
written  sermon.  If  these  numbers  of  assigned  pages  did  not 
equal  thirty  he  reviewed  his  plan  to  see  where  he  might  best 
expand,  or  where  to  reduce  if  he  had  too  many.  It  was  extraor- 
dinary that  one  who  gave  the  impression  of  such  utter  spontane- 
ity, whose  sermons  seemed  to  come  by  a  flash  of  inspiration, 
costing  no  effort,  should  have  thus  limited  himself  in  fixed  and 
apparently  mechanical  ways. 

The  hardest  part  of  his  work  was  accomplished  when  he  had 
completed  his  plan.  Thursday  and  Friday  mornings  were  de- 
voted to  writing  the  sermon ;  and  as  each  sermon  contained  some 
five  thousand  words  a  considerable  amount  of  labor  was  still 
required.  He  wrote  with  rapidity,  rarely  making  a  correction, 
and  in  a  large,  legible,  and  graceful  handwriting.  Evidently  it 
was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  write  a  sermon  under  these  conditions. 
He  came  to  each  paragraph  as  to  a  work  of  art. 

The  first  shape  which  the  sermon  took  was  the  brief  hint  in  the 
note-book.  Every  sermon  may  thus  be  traced  in  its  genesis, 
even  the  casual  speech  on  slight  occasions.  One  might  have 
thought  that  after  so  many  years  of  preparation  it  would  have 
been  possible  for  him  to  make  a  few  minutes'  talk  after  dinner, 
or  to  boys  in  school  or  college,  without  first  writing  down  the  idea 
on  which  he  was  to  touch,  and  then  expanding  it  into  a  complete 
plan.  But  nothing  that  he  did  was  without  premeditation.  He 
did  not  trust  to  the  moment  to  bring  him  inspiration. 

What  has  been  said  of  his  method  of  preparing  a  written 
sermon  applies  to  his  extemporaneous  sermons.     The  plan  was 


PARISH  MINISTRY  281 

elaborated  and  written  out  and  afterwards  filed  for  future  refer- 
ence. There  are  many  hundreds  of  these  plans,  but  this  difference 
is  to  be  noted,  that  in  making  them  he  used  a  full  sheet  of  sermon 
paper,  with  the  handwriting  large  and  bold,  clearly  with  the 
purpose  in  view  of  taking  them  into  the  pulpit.  He  could  not 
thus  have  utilized  the  plans  of  the  written  sermon,  for  the  hand- 
writing was  so  small  as  to  have  required  a  magnifying-glass  to 
read  it.  In  this  way  he  cultivated  himself  in  the  art  of  extempore 
preaching.  The  practice  which  he  had  in  amplifying  his  ideas  in 
the  written  sermon  helped  him  when  preaching  without  notes, 
giving  him  freedom  in  the  pulpit.  Often  when  he  was  most 
powerful  he  had  departed  from  the  manuscript  before  him,  or 
ceased  to  follow  the  plan  laid  out.  He  was  never  more  effective 
than  when  he  delivered  some  written  sermon  extemporaneously. 
In  such  cases  he  did  not  use  the  manuscript  for  preparation,  but 
went  to  the  plan  on  which  it  had  been  written,  coming  again 
under  the  influence  of  the  original  idea  which  had  first  inspired 
him,  and  then  giving  to  it  such  fresh  treatment  as  made  it  seem 
as  if  he  were  delivering  a  new  sermon. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  a  preacher  that  he 
did  not  follow  the  rule  enjoined  in  rhetorical  treatises  calling 
for  a  culmination  at  the  end  of  the  discourse,  for  which  the  most 
effective  points  or  arguments  should  be  reserved.  On  the  con- 
trary he  often,  perhaps  generally,  came  to  his  climax  as  he  began. 
He  followed  the  artist's  method,  throwing  his  leading  idea  upon 
the  canvas  in  bold  outline,  holding  the  gaze  of  his  audience  as 
with  an  artist's  power  he  filled  up  the  outline  and  made  a  living, 
speaking  portrait.  What  he  was  doing  in  every  sermon  was  to 
reproduce  the  personal  process  through  which  he  himself  had 
passed  from  the  moment  when  he  grasped  a  truth  till  he  had 
traced  out  in  his  own  experience  its  relation  to  life  and  to  all 
other  truth.  This  process  kept  him  natural,  sincere,  and  un- 
affected, preserving  his  personality  in  all  that  he  said,  and  free 
from  the  dangers  of  conventionalism  or  artificiality.  None 
ever  charged  him  with  employing  the  artifices  of  rhetoric  to  ac- 
complish his  end,  or  harbored  the  suspicion  that  he  moved  them 
by  sensational  methods.  Whatever  the  rules  of  rhetoric  may 
require,  in  real  life  the  strongest  argument  comes  first,  and  is 
confirmed  by  the  lesser  reasons.     This  was  Phillips  Brooks's 


282  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

method.  There  was  a  letting  down  of  the  audience  as  he  closed 
from  the  exaltation  with  which  he  began  to  the  sober  application 
of  his  truth  in  the  realities  of  life. 

A  few  illustrations  are  here  given  from  his  note-books  to  show 
the  ideas  germinating  in  his  mind,  afterwards  to  be  developed 
into  sermons;  they  also  illustrate  his  preaching  and  thought  at 
the  moment  when  they  were  written.  One  year  is  as  good  as 
another  for  this  purpose,  and  we  fix  upon  1874,  when  he  was 
preaching  in  Huntington  Hall : 

"The  way  the  Bible  strikes  at  the  average  respectability,  as  in 
the  Elder  Brother  and  Pharisees,  yet  never  would  overturn.  No 
socialism;  always  full  of  virtue  and  order,  always  bringing  up 
the  better  from  below,  always  making  growth  the  changing  force, 
always  developing.  That  the  whole  secret  of  reform.  Other 
systems  purely  destructive ;  have  tried  to  appropriate  Christianity, 
but  have  failed." 

"When  an  end  had  been  made  of  the  people's  old  religion,  of 
their  faith,  and  of  the  God-made  man  of  the  Gospel,  do  you  know 
what  was  substituted?  The  faith  in  the  God-made  man  of  social- 
ism. For  what  is  socialism  at  bottom?  It  is  man  believing 
himself  God,  in  the  sense  that  he  believes  himself  capable  of 
destroying  evil  and  suffering.  (Life  of  Montalembert,  vol.  ii. 
p.  112.)" 

"For  thus  saith  the  Lord  unto  the  house  of  Israel,  Seek  ye  me, 
and  ye  shall  live.  Amos.  v.  4.  One  must  be  in  harmony  with 
the  principles  of  life  in  order  to  live;  for  example,  the  forces  of 
nature,  the  laws  of  the  land,  the  men  about  us,  of  all  good  things. 
This  must  be  what  is  meant  by  seeking  God;  not  His  favor,  but 
His  nature.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  Christ  reconciling  us  to 
God.  The  full  life  of  Jesus.  .  .  .  There  is  a  rich  vitality  in  the 
man  who  has  sought  God." 

"  Eli as  was  a  man  subject  to  like  passions  as  we  are.  James  v. 
17.  General  tendency  to  think  the  great  men  so  much  greater 
than  we  are.  What  is  and  what  is  not  common  to  men  (Declara- 
tion of  Independence).  Settle  it  that  privilege  must  belong  with 
character,  and  then  there  can  be  no  arbitrary  inequality.  'And 
I  will  not  be  judged  by  any  that  never  felt  the  like,'  said  Richard 
Baxter  on  his  wife's  death." 

"And  when  he  was  come  into  Jerusalem,  all  the  city  was  moved, 
saying,  Who  is  this?     Matt.  xxi.  10. 


PARISH  MINISTRY  283 

"The  moved  city  is  the  emphasis  of  ideas  by  humanity,  adding 
nothing  to  their  inherent  reasonableness,  but  very  much  to  their 
convincing  force. 

"  Who  is  this?  a  wonder  worker,  a  truth  teacher,  a  soul  changer? 

"There  must  be  a  Theology,  a  Christology.  Refuge  in  mere 
moralism  will  not  do.  It  is  too  shallow.  If  there  be  a  Christ 
we  must  know  Him,  think  something  of  Him." 

"Giving  none  offence  in  any  thing,  that  the  ministry  be  not 
blamed.  2  Cor.  vi.  3.  What  the  classes  are, — Dogmatic  bigots; 
the  utterly  indifferent ;  earnest  believers.  .  .  . 

"  What  ought  to  be  our  feeling  towards  each? 

"The  need  of  having  settled  principles  on  which  to  regulate  our 
life  with  one  another.  What  are  the  principles  which  Christian- 
ity brings  to  bear:  1.  God's  love  for  all  and  guidance  of  all.  2. 
The  common  teachableness.  3.  The  resurrection  and  eternal 
life.  4.  The  personal  conscience.  5.  The  worth  of  the  soul 
above  the  body.     All  these  made  manifest  by  the  Incarnation. 

"Some  time  a  strong  sermon  on  the  Incarnation. 

"You  cannot  carry  Christianity  everywhere,  but  you  can  carry 
Christ. 

"The  character  of  the  arguments  to  which  men's  minds  are 
open  one  of  the  best  indications  of  their  calibre." 

"  Trouble  not  the  Master.  The  tendency  of  Churchmen  to  shut 
up  Christ  to  certain  activities,  and  to  lose  His  spontaneousness  and 
freeness.  The  causes  of  such  a  tendency.  Analyze  into  a  care 
for  Him  and  a  lurking,  half-unconscious  fear  of  exhaustion;  for 
example,  Salvability  of  the  heathen;  Forgiveness  of  very  great 
sins;  Salvation  of  errorists;  Few  that  be  saved." 

"Sermon  on  Forgiveness,  as  the  purpose  of  the  Gospel.  .  .  . 
The  prerequisites  of  forgiveness  are  repentance  and  faith,  .  .  . 
not  remorse  and  belief.  A  reconciled  God,  the  grandeur  of  that 
idea.  .  .  .  Has  it  not  been  done  by  Christ  in  the  world  and  in  the 
heart?  If  men  come  into  the  councils  of  God  and  dwell  there  as 
they  could  not  of  old,  has  not  He  done  it?  And  by  the  death  of 
Christ,  is  not  that  true  also?  Sin  has  been  made  hideous,  obedi- 
ence lovely,  love  evident.  Then  how  evident  that  not  by  any 
mere  outward  works  the  forgiveness  is  obtained." 

"But  will  God  indeed  dwell  on  the  earth!  Atheism,  Pantheism, 
Deism,  Incarnation.  Then  the  spiritual  conception  of  an  in- 
dwelling God,  a  God  who  is  in,  not  is,  the  human  soul." 

"Say  the  Lord  hath  need  of  him.     God's  need  of  men;  the  solu- 


284  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tion  of  Calvinism.     The  opposite  statements  of  Spiritual  things 
which  may  both  be  true." 

''Humility.  To  be  gained  both  by  sense  of  our  own  weakness 
and  by  the  bigness  of  others.  .  .  .  Humility  and  self-respect 
entirely  consistent." 

"That  they  should  seek  after  God,  if  haply  they  might  feel  after 
and  find  Him,  though  He  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us.  God 
nearer  than  we  think.  We  are  blind  to  what  is  nearest  to  us 
always.  Christ  the  exhibition  of  a  nearness  of  God  which  is 
already  a  fact.  The  difference  if  we  understood  it  all.  God  the 
atmosphere  of  life." 

Two  addresses  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  1874  and  1875  deserve 
mention,  as  illustrating  his  methods  of  work,  and  for  autobio- 
graphic significance.  The  first  was  given  in  1874,  before  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Teachers'  Association,  on  "Milton  as  an  Educator," 
where  he  sums  up  the  studies  of  years  on  the  life  and  times  of  Mil- 
ton, together  with  his  own  experience  and  observation.  The  ad- 
dress is  a  remarkable  one,  suggesting  wonder  that  he  should  find 
time  for  such  thorough  research  into  the  bearing  of  his  theme. 
The  wonder  vanishes,  when  we  find  by  his  note-book  that  he  had 
given  up  the  previous  summer  to  the  needful  study,  going  for 
himself  to  the  treatises  of  Locke,  Bacon,  and  Spencer,  and  then 
to  Quintilian,  Montaigne,  Comenius,  Pestalozzi,  and  Basedow. 

Another  address  was  delivered  at  the  anniversary  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts State  Normal  School,  in  July,  1875,  when  his  subject 
was  "Courage."  1  The  preparation  for  it  was  made  a  long  time 
in  advance,  and  among  the  writings  of  Phillips  Brooks  it  occupies 
a  most  important  place.  We  are  haunted  as  we  read  with  the 
conviction  that  we  have  before  us  a  chapter  from  his  experience, 
had  he  chosen  to  give  it  a  personal  form.  He  tells  us  of  his 
method  of  reading: 

"The  habit  of  review  reading  is  hostile  to  literary  courage.  To 
read  merely  what  some  one  has  said  about  a  book  is  probably  as 
unstimulating,  as  unfertilizing  a  process  as  the  human  mind  can 
submit  to.  .  .  .  Read  books  themselves.  To  read  a  book  is  to 
make  a  friend ;  if  it  is  worth  your  reading  you  meet  a  man ;  you 

»  Cf.  Essays  and  Addresses  for  both  these  papers,  "  Milton  as  an  Ed- 
ucator," p.  300,  and  "  Courage,"  p.  319. 


PARISH  MINISTRY  285 

go  away  full  of  his  spirit;  if  there  is  anything  in  you,  he  will 
quicken  it.  .  .  .  To  make  young  people  know  the  souls  of  books 
and  find  their  own  souls  in  knowing  them,  that  is  the  only  way  to 
cultivate  their  literary  courage." 

But  the  subject  itself  is  most  suggestive.  If  we  might  fix  upon 
one  word  to  describe  the  character  of  Phillips  Brooks,  it  would 
be  courage.  It  was  written  in  his  appearance  and  manner,  show- 
ing itself  in  his  sermons  and  his  conversation,  the  one  quality 
which  could  not  be  suppressed  or  disguised.  It  had  been  mani- 
fested in  Philadelphia  when  he  espoused  causes  which  were  un- 
popular. To  preach  was  an  act  requiring  courage,  because  he 
must  needs,  in  order  to  be  successful,  unfold  his  inner  self,  and 
speak  of  the  intimate  phases  of  the  soul's  life  in  God,  when  no 
pressure  could  have  extracted  these  things  from  him  in  ordinary 
circumstances.  When,  therefore,  he  gives  the  definition  of 
courage,  he  is  imparting  the  secret  of  his  own  experience :  ''Courage 
is  the  power  of  being  mastered  by  and  possessed  with  an  idea.  How 
rare  it  is!  I  do  not  say  how  jew  men  are  so  mastered  and  possessed; 
I  say  how  jew  men  have  the  power  so  to  be." 

The  Sundays  at  Huntington  Hall  succeeded  each  other  with 
their  unvarying  testimony  to  the  preacher's  power.  No  courses 
of  lectures  on  literature,  art,  or  science  with  which  the  hall  was 
associated  ever  witnessed  a  greater  audience.  It  would  not  have 
been  so  surprising  if  on  anniversary  occasions  the  crowd  had  gone 
forth  to  meet  him;  but  this  was  the  case  Sunday  after  Sunday, 
like  the  sun  each  day  as  it  rises  in  its  strength,  till  people  became 
accustomed  to  it  as  to  the  gifts  of  God,  and  hardly  wondered  at 
the  munificence  of  the  feast.  A  very  competent  observer  has 
described  the  preacher  at  this  time,  in  terms  felicitous  and  true: 

"We  sometimes  read  of  Schleiermacher  and  Whitefield  and 
Robertson  and  McCheyne  and  Chalmers  and  Mason,  and  think  it 
must  have  been  good  to  live  in  the  times  when  men  preached  with 
their  fire  and  their  mighty  hold  on  the  heart ;  but  lo !  we  have 
the  same  phenomena  in  Boston  to-day,  a  man  in  some  respects 
even  more  than  the  equal  of  some  I  have  named.  .  .  .Philosophic 
candor,  and  a  large  grasp,  this  separates  him  world  wide  from  the 
common  pulpit;  and  those  who  find  themselves  always  on  the 
guard  about  the  statements  of  others  give  Phillips  Brooks  a  ready 
ear.  But  with  all  this,  there  is  in  his  preaching  what  one  must 
call  the  everlasting  Gospel;  that  faithfulness  to  the  conscience, 


286  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

that  tender  pleading,  that  dignity  of  condescension,  and  yet  that 
brotherliness  and  sympathy,  that  fidelity  to  dogmas,  yet  that 
absence  of  dogmatic  expression,  that  lack  of  the  sensational, 
ludicrous,  and  egotistic,  and  that  spiritual  quickening,  which 
men  sum  up  in  one  brief  phrase  when  they  say,  'That  is  what  I 
call  preaching.'  For  myself,  I  should  deem  no  vacation  complete 
without  hearing  Phillips  Brooks.  After  hearing  Candlish,  Dykes, 
Hamilton,  Jones,  Binney,  Spurgeon,  Pressense,  Monod,  Krum- 
macher,  and  Tholuck,  not  to  mention  other  distinguished  divines 
of  Europe,  there  is  no  one  who  so  exactly  suits  me  as  Phillips 
Brooks.  There  is  a  warmth  and  life  and  inspiration  and  truth 
from  his  lips  that  I  have  not  found  elsewhere.  And  from  what 
I  hear  mine  is  not  an  isolated  case." 

The  late  Principal  Tulloch  of  the  University  of  Aberdeen  was 
visiting  Boston  in  the  spring  of  1874.  This  was  his  tribute  to 
Phillips  Brooks,  in  a  letter  to  his  wife: 

"April  26,  1874.  I  have  just  heard  the  most  remarkable 
sermon  I  ever  heard  in  my  life  (I  use  the  word  in  no  American 
sense)  from  Mr.  Phillips  Brooks,  an  Episcopal  clergyman  here: 
equal  to  the  best  of  Frederick  Robertson's  sermons,  with  a 
vigor  and  force  of  thought  which  he  has  not  always.  I  never 
heard  preaching  like  it,  and  you  know  how  slow  I  am  to  praise 
preachers.  So  much  thought  and  so  much  life  combined;  such  a 
reach  of  mind,  and  such  a  depth  and  insight  of  soul.  I  was 
electrified.     I  could  have  got  up  and  shouted."  * 

There  was  no  living  critic  who  surpassed  Principal  Tulloch; 
few  who  could  be  said  to  equal  him,  in  those  qualities  which  go 
to  making  up  the  capacity  for  final  arbitration.  The  man  who 
could  move  him  to  such  an  outburst  had  gained  some  vantage- 
ground  which  it  is  essential  to  discover.  When  we  turn  to  the 
sermon,  it  is  to  find  that  it  was  no  exceptional  utterance  com- 
pared with  many  others  that  might  be  mentioned.  And  yet  it 
contained  in  a  marked  degree  that  quality  which  now  made  all 
the  sermons  great.  The  text  was:  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Dost 
thou  believe  on  the  Son  of  God .  He  answered  and  said,  Who  is  he, 
Lord,  that  I  might  believe  on  him?  And  Jesus  said  unto  him, 
Thou  hast  both  seen  him,  and  it  is  he  that  talketh  with  thee.2  Christ 
was  drawn  as  the  most  real,  most  present  power  in  the  world. 

1  Mrs.  Oliphant's  Life  of  Principal  Tulloch,  pp.  292,  303. 

2  Cf.  Sermons,  vol.  v.,  p.  194:  "  The  Opening  of  the  Eyes." 


NEW  TRINITY  CHURCH  287 

Men  see  Him,  talk  with  Him,  but  they  do  not  know  what 
lofty  converse  they  are  holding.  The  subtlety  of  the  spiritual 
imagination  enabled  the  preacher  to  enter  into  the  mind  of  Christ 
and  to  reproduce  the  scene,  as  though  Christ  were  standing  in 
bodily  presence  before  the  congregation.  What  had  taken  place 
those  centuries  ago  was  repeating  itself  in  the  consciousness  of 
many  on  that  Sunday  afternoon. 

The  story  of  the  building  of  Trinity  Church  reads  like  a  ro- 
mance from  its  first  inception,  through  the  difficulties  sur- 
mounted, till  it  culminated  in  the  service  of  consecration.  In 
the  accomplishment  of  the  work,  the  building  committee,  the  ar- 
chitect, the  rector,  labored  together  in  a  spirit  of  harmony,  and 
under  the  conviction  that  "our  duty  to  the  parish,  to  posterity, 
and  to  God  has  been  clear,  to  make  the  new  church  fully  worthy 
of  the  piety,  the  culture,  and  the  wealth  of  our  people."  From 
beginning  to  end  a  deep  enthusiasm  pervaded  the  whole  under- 
taking. With  Phillips  Brooks  originated  the  motives  which 
dominate  the  edifice.  His  ideas  are  written  in  the  structure; 
he  supported  and  stimulated  the  genius  of  the  architect,  turning 
it  to  his  own  purpose ;  he  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  building 
committee  and  of  the  members  of  the  parish,  manifested  by 
unstinted  generosity  in  giving,  in  response  to  increasing  appeals. 
In  his  judgment  the  time  was  ripe  to  make  an  attempt  in 
ecclesiastical  architecture  which,  while  it  retained  whatever  was 
effective  in  traditional  methods,  should  yet  be  subservient  to 
the  expression  of  the  higher  aspects  of  religion.  The  first  con- 
dition was  to  break  away  from  the  so-called  Gothic  style,  whose 
introduction  into  England  and  America  had  been  followed  by 
the  attempted  return  to  mediaeval  religion.  That  type  of  re- 
ligion, with  its  priesthood  and  confessional,  and  its  emphasis 
on  the  sacrament  of  the  altar,  had  clothed  itself  in  a  style  of 
architecture  in  which  the  hearing  of  the  word  of  God  was  not 
taken  into  consideration  as  affecting  the  structural  necessities 
of  the  building  art.  "  Faith  cometh  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by 
the  word  of  God  "  was  the  motive  of  Phillips  Brooks.  This 
was  the  principle  kept  in  the  foreground,  as  controlling  the 
details  of  the  construction.  Even  the  piers  of  the  central  tower, 
where  they  are  visible  in  the  church,  were  made  smaller  than 


288  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  fitting  proportions  seemed  to  demand,  failing  to  represent 
the  massive  foundations  on  which  they  rest,  and  even  concealing 
in  some  measure  their  structural  purpose,  in  order  that  the  sym- 
bolism of  the  church  as  a  place  for  the  proclamation  of  the  gospel 
might  be  more  effectually  secured. 

But  in  order  that  the  dignity  of  the  sacraments  might  be 
secured,  and  their  true  significance  made  prominent,  there  was 
added  to  the  chancel  end  of  the  church  a  large  semicircular 
apse,  to  be  devoted  to  the  purpose  of  the  administration  of  the 
Lord's  Supper.  Its  motive  was  to  represent  the  idea  of  Chris- 
tian communion  and  fellowship  as  one  great  end  which  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  designed  to  promote.  In  the  centre  of  the 
apse  stood  the  Lord's  table, — a  table  according  to  the  original 
institution  of  the  feast,  not  a  sideboard  but  a  table,  whose 
importance  to  the  Christian  imagination  was  not  obscured  or 
dwarfed  by  other  ornamentation.  Those  who  have  witnessed 
the  communion  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  Trinity  Church  have 
been  impressed  by  the  significance  of  the  divine  symbolism.  The 
baptismal  font  is  placed  next  the  chancel,  connecting  the  two 
sacraments,  setting  forth  the  truth  that  inward  purification  is 
the  condition  for  participating  in  the  heavenly  banquet. 

But  it  was  also  the  purpose  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  combine 
with  these  features  of  a  Protestant  church  whatever  was  of 
human  and  enduring  significance  in  the  earlier  methods  of  Chris- 
tian architecture.  He  would  take  from  the  old  order  the  ideas 
of  solidity  and  of  imposing  grandeur,  of  beauty,  adornment  in 
form  and  color,  which  should  surpass,  if  possible,  all  other  beauty, 
in  its  costly  decoration  symbolizing  that  wealth  was  worthily 
employed  when  it  ministered  to  spiritual  ends.  Let  the  complex 
involutions  of  the  result  stand  for  the  rich  variety  of  religious 
interests.  Retain  from  the  old,  also,  the  sense  of  awe  and 
mystery,  that  combination  of  effects  in  which  Milton,  though  a 
Puritan,  rejoiced,  whose  result  was  to  dissolve  the  spirit  in 
religious  feeling  and  bring  heaven  before  the  eye. 

The  completed  edifice  did  not  quite  represent  the  original 
intention  of  the  architect.  The  walls  were  to  have  been  several 
feet  higher,  and  the  original  design  of  the  tower  showed  a  square 
lantern  with  turrets  at  each  corner,  much  like  the  present  tower, 
but  surmounted  by  an  octagonal  portion  rising  some  fifty  feet 


NEW  TRINITY  CHURCH  289 

higher.  But  to  carry  out  this  plan  of  the  tower  called  for  walls 
of  such  thickness  that,  in  the  minds  of  experts  who  were  con- 
sulted, the  foundations  would  not  be  strong  enough  to  support 
the  weight.  To  this  criticism  the  architect  demurred,  but 
the  change  was  made.  The  lowering  of  the  walls  was  partly 
in  obedience  to  acoustic  demands,  which  were  an  important 
consideration,  as  was  also  the  construction  of  the  ceiling.1 

It  had  formed  a  part  of  the  architect's  design  that  the  interior 
of  the  church  should  be  decorated  in  accordance  with  a  large 
plan  embracing  the  whole  and  every  separate  part  in  its  unity 
of  treatment;  that  this  should  be  done  by  some  creative  mind, 
capable  of  a  task  which  in  this  country  hitherto  had  no  precedent ; 
that  the  church  within  should  be  rich  with  the  luxuriance  of  color, 
as  well  as  with  paintings  representing  angelic  intelligences  and 
the  great  personages  of  religious  history.  Into  this  scheme 
Phillips  Brooks  entered  with  enthusiasm.  There  was  one  pe- 
culiarity about  him,  so  marked  as  to  be  almost  extraordinary, — 
his  love  of  color  for  its  own  sake.  His  susceptibility  to  color 
was  almost  feminine,  so  quick  was  he  to  feel  and  appreciate. 
He  had  become  also  an  adept  in  the  matter  of  stained  glass, 
studying  at  factories  in  Europe  the  method  of  its  production. 
It  was  no  indifferent  subject,  then,  to  Phillips  Brooks,  when  the 
architect  proposed  that  the  church  should  be  made  glorious  by 
the  richest  effects  of  color  which  the  best  artists  could  devise. 

The  interior  decoration  was  entrusted  to  La  Farge,  the  most 
eminent  of  American  artists,  who  gathered  about  him  competent 
assistants  laboring  with  him,  says  Richardson,  "in  a  spirit  of 
true  artistic  enthusiasm  for  a  work  so  novel  and  affording  such 
an  opportunity  for  the  highest  exercise  of  a  painter's  talents." 
Mr.  La  Farge  had  a  magnificent  scheme,  but  it  required  time 
for  its  fulfilment,  a  condition  which  could  not  be  granted.  He 
confined  his  attention,  therefore,  to  the  roof  and  the  walls  of 

1  Mr.  Brooks  had  feared  that  his  voice  might  not  be  found  sufficient  for 
the  large  edifice,  but  the  first  trial  proved  that  the  fear  was  groundless. 
At  this  time  he  had  taken  no  lessons  in  the  use  of  the  voice;  his  one 
reference  to  elocution  is  of  a  humorous  character:  "Of  oratory  and  all 
the  marvellous  mysterious  ways  of  those  who  teach  it,  I  dare  say  nothing. 
I  believe  in  the  true  elocution  teacher  as  I  believe  in  the  existence  of 
Halley's  comet,  which  comes  in  sight  of  this  earth  once  in  about  seventy- 
six  years." 
19 


29o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  central  tower  in  the  confidence  that  if  this  were  completed 
the  rest  would  follow. 

The  new  Trinity  Church  at  the  time  of  its  erection  awakened 
an  unusual  interest ;  its  progress  was  followed  by  the  newspapers ; 
architects  discussed  it  at  their  meetings.  This  is  a  report  of  the 
impression  it  produced  which  will  stand  for  many  similar  notices : 

"A  splendid  surprise  is  in  store  for  the  worshippers  at  Trinity 
Church  on  the  opening  to  the  public  for  consecration.  The 
interior  is  impressive  in  its  vast  spaces  alone,  the  grandeur  of  its 
wide  and  lofty  arches  spanning  nave  and  transepts,  and  the 
height  of  the  ceiling  in  the  great  square  tower  open  to  the  sight 
far  beyond  the  vaulted  roof.  The  grand  exterior  dimensions  of 
the  church  somewhat  prepare  one  for  the  spaciousness  within.  But 
only  seeing  can  realize  the  superb  beauty  of  the  decoration.  .  .  . 
Its  richness  is  beyond  compare,  because  there  is  literally  nothing 
like  it  this  side  of  the  ocean.  Trinity  is  the  first  church  in  this 
country  to  be  decorated  by  artists,  as  distinguished  from  artisans. 
The  result  must  be  to  make  an  era  in  American  art  and  Church 
building." 

The  church  was  consecrated  by  Bishop  Paddock  on  February 
9,  1877,  five  years  after  the  destruction  of  the  old  edifice.  Among 
the  invited  guests  were  the  Governor  of  the  State,  the  Mayor 
of  Boston,  clergymen  of  other  denominations,  the  wardens  and 
vestrymen  of  other  parishes,  the  architect,  the  artists,  and  build- 
ers. One  hundred  and  seven  clergymen  walked  in  procession 
from  the  chapel  to  the  western  entrance,  where  they  were 
received  by  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  the  church,  and  together 
went  up  the  nave,  reciting  alternately  the  twenty-fourth  Psalm, 
whose  sentences  seemed  to  take  on  a  deeper  meaning:  "The 
earth  is  the  Lord's  and  all  that  therein  is;  the  compass  of  the 
world  and  they  that  dwell  therein.  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye 
gates;  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors;  and  the  King  of 
glory  shall  come  in."  It  was  characteristic  of  Phillips  Brooks 
that  he  should  call  about  him  on  such  a  day  the  friends  of  his 
life  who  were  in  the  ministry,  or  who  had  been  associated  with 
him  in  the  theological  seminary.  Among  them  was  Dr.  Vinton 
who  delivered  the  sermon  from  the  text  Revelation  xxi.  22: 
"I  saw  no  temple  therein;  for  the  Lord  God  Almighty  and  the 
Lamb  are  the  temple  thereof." 


NEW  TRINITY  CHURCH  291 

On  the  day  after  the  consecration  Mr.  Brooks  wrote  to  Mr. 
R.  T.  Paine: 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  my  dear  Bob,  something  of  what  yes- 
terday was  to  me,  and  of  how  my  deep  gratitude  and  love  to  you 
mingled  with  the  feeling  of  every  hour.  May  God  bless  you  is 
all  that  I  can  say.  The  Church  would  not  be  standing  there,  the 
beautiful  and  stately  thing  that  it  is,  except  for  your  tireless 
devotion.  How  often  I  have  wondered  at  your  undiscouraged 
faith ;  and  all  my  life  as  I  look  back  on  these  years  of  anxiety 
and  work,  I  shall  see  a  picture  of  constancy  which  I  know  will 
make  me  stronger  for  whatever  I  have  to  do.  Your  kind  words 
crown  the  whole  and  leave  nothing  to  be  desired  in  this  complete 
achievement. 

"  I  am  almost  appalled  when  I  think  what  the  great  work  in  this 
new  Church  may  be.  I  know  that  I  shall  have  your  help  and 
prayers  in  the  part  of  it  which  will  fall  to  me  to  do.  Many, 
many  happy  years  are  before  us,  if  God  will,  and  when  we  leave 
the  great  dear  thing  to  those  who  come  after  us  we  shall  be  near 
one  another,  I  am  sure,  in  the  better  life." 

At  their  annual  Easter  meeting  (April  4)  the  Proprietors  of 
Trinity  Church  acknowledged  to  the  rector  their  sense  of 
indebtedness  for  his  contribution  to  the  great  achievement : 

"We  cannot  let  this  great  epoch  in  the  life  of  our  ancient 
Parish  pass,  without  placing  on  permanent  record  our  sense  of 
the  deep  obligations  of  us  and  our  whole  people  to  our  beloved 
Rector,  Mr.  Brooks.  ...  To  him  in  large  measure  is  due  the 
beauty  and  the  glory  of  the  new  Church ;  he  has  been  himself 
the  inspiration  of  the  Architect,  Builders,  and  Committee.  .  .  . 
The  love  of  our  whole  people,  men,  women,  and  children,  is  all 
that  we  can  give  him  in  return." 

An  incident  occurred  in  connection  with  the  services  of  con- 
secration to  which  it  is  necessary  to  allude.  To  the  sacrament 
of  the  Lord's  Supper  there  came  clergymen  of  other  denomina- 
tions, and  among  them  Unitarian  ministers,  personally  invited  to 
remain  for  the  communion.  From  two  directions  followed  pro- 
tests,— a  condemnation  of  the  act  by  a  Unitarian  who  wrote: 

"The  dignitaries  (?)  who  invited  the  liberal  clergy  to  partake 
of  the  sacrament  did  what  was  for  them  a  generous  thing.  .  .  . 
Their  eye  had  caught  the  vision  of  a  broad  church,  whose  en- 
closing walls  embraced  believers  of  every  name.     But  what  shall 


292  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

we  think  of  the  liberals  who  accepted  the  invitation?  Were 
they  looking  forward?  Were  their  faces  bathed  in  light?  Were 
they  straining  the  line  of  their  traditions?" 

From  the  other  side  there  came  a  protest  by  a  presbyter  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  to  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  against  "a  grievous 
sacrilege"  in  the  admission  to  the  Holy  Communion  of  "those 
who  avowedly  deny  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,  even 
concerning  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  our  Lord's  Godhead." 
Such  an  act  was  to  be  regarded  as  a  violation  of  Scripture,  of 
"Catholic"  custom,  and  of  Christian  instinct,  as  well  as  contrary 
to  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  formularies  of  the  Protestant  Epis- 
copal Church.  In  the  controversy  that  followed  Mr.  Brooks 
kept  silence.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  meaning  of  the 
formularies  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  he  had  long  since  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  they  were  not  intended  to  exclude  from  the 
communion  those  who  did  not  accept  her  articles  of  faith  or  fol- 
low her  mode  of  worship.  He  distinguished  between  the  cere- 
monial forms  which  accompanied  the  act  of  Holy  Communion 
and  the  simple  rite  itself,  the  eating  of  the  bread  and  the  partici- 
pation in  the  cup  of  blessing.  The  one  essential  requisition  for 
the  communion  were  the  words  of  invitation  in  the  office  itself: 
"Ye  who  do  truly  and  earnestly  repent  you  of  your  sins,  and  are 
in  love  and  charity  with  your  neighbors,  and  intend  to  lead  a  new 
life,  following  the  commandments  of  God,  and  walking  from 
henceforth  in  His  holy  ways,  draw  near  with  faith,  and  take  this 
Holy  Sacrament  to  your  comfort." 

This  comprehensiveness  of  spirit  was  obnoxious  to  some  of  Mr. 
Brooks's  brethren  in  the  Episcopal  Church;  his  action  was  not 
forgotten ;  he  was  destined  to  hear  from  it  again  after  many  years. 
He  had  gained,  however,  the  confidence  and  affection  of  ministers 
and  people  of  every  name.  The  long  and  deep-rooted  prejudice 
against  the  Episcopal  Church  in  the  city  of  the  Puritans  was  not 
to  be  at  once  overcome.  But  it  was  a  great  part  of  the  work  of 
Phillips  Brooks  in  Boston  to  lessen  the  dislike  and  disarm  suspi- 
cions. Among  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans  no  one  had  a  more 
representative  estimate  of  the  situation  than  the  late  Rev.  Dr. 
George  E.  Ellis,  a  Unitarian  minister  retired  from  active  service, 
devoting  his  leisure  to  historical  study  and  the  writing  of  books, 
at  a  later  time  the  honored  president  of  the  Massachusetts  His- 


NEW  TRINITY  CHURCH  293 

torical  Society.  He  was  one  of  those  who  went  to  the  communion 
in  Trinity  Church.  A  letter  written  by  him  to  Mr.  Brooks 
follows: 

"  no  Marlborough  Street,  February  10,  1877. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Brooks, — After  thoughtfully  digesting  the 
noble  and  appropriate  services  and  the  delightful  experiences  of 
yesterday  in  connection  with  the  consecration  of  Trinity  Church, 
I  feel  prompted  to  express  to  you  in  this  form  my  sincerest  con- 
gratulations on  the  fair  completion  of  an  undertaking  which  must 
have  engaged  so  deeply  your  own  anxieties  and  interests.  It  has 
been  something  more  and  better  than  mere  curiosity  that  has  led 
me  almost  daily  to  watch  the  progress  of  a  critical  and  generous 
enterprise,  from  the  driving  of  the  first  pile  to  the  solemn  dedica- 
tion of  the  completed  sanctuary.  In  my  view,  the  distinctive 
character  of  your  congregation,  your  own  ministry,  and  the  prom- 
inent and  honored  position  which  you  represent  before  this  com- 
munity conserve  the  very  best  elements  of  religious  culture,  and 
of  a  spirit  of  Christian  comprehensiveness  and  liberality,  associ- 
ated in  my  thought  with  the  selectest  fellowship  of  the  class  of 
disciples  with  whom  I  have  been  most  intimately  connected; 
while  at  the  same  time  the  original  deposit  of  the  faith  and  the 
fitness  of  its  dispensation  have  found  in  you  a  wiser  guardianship 
than  it  proved  to  have  with  the  so-called  Liberal  denomination 
as  a  whole.  So  I  would  venture  with  much  respect  to  assure  you 
that  I  am  heartily  interested  in  the  effective  work  which,  with 
such  modest  personal  unobtrusiveness  and  with  such  power,  you 
are  doing  among  us. 

"And  I  must  recognize  with  a  hearty  appreciation  and  grati- 
tude the  delightful  Christian  courtesy  shown  towards  all  the 
miscellaneous  company  of  ministers,  including  myself,  in  the  ar- 
rangement made  yesterday  for  our  participation  in  and  enjoy- 
ment of  the  seemly  and  impressive  services,  especially  the  Holy 
Communion. 

"With  sincerest  respect  and  regard,  I  am 

"Very  truly  yours, 

"George  E.  Ellis." 

The  new  Trinity  Church  was  not  what  is  technically  known  as 
a  "free  church"  ;  the  pews  were  rented  by  the  Proprietors,  and  on 
each  pew  a  tax  was  laid  for  the  support  of  public  worship.  But 
the  large  galleries  in  the  transepts  of  the  church  were  free  in  every 
sense ;  no  tax  was  laid  on  them,  and  no  contribution  solicited  from 
those  who  occupied  them.  This  object  had  been  kept  in  view  by 
Mr.  Brooks  when  the  plans  of  the  church  were  drawn,  and  urged 


294  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

by  him  upon  the  architect,  that  such  ample  accommodation 
should  be  provided.  The  galleries  accommodate  some  four  hun- 
dred people, — a  larger  congregation  than  is  found  in  most 
churches.  It  was  also  understood  between  the  rector  and  the 
congregation  that  at  an  early  moment  in  the  service  pews  not 
occupied  should  be  regarded  as  vacant,  to  be  placed  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  stranger. 

So  Phillips  Brooks  took  the  place  where  for  many  years  he 
was  to  sway  the  people  with  an  hitherto  unknown  power.  The 
enthronement  of  an  ecclesiastical  dignitary  could  possess  no 
deeper  significance.  He  seemed  now  to  stand  at  the  height  of 
his  renown.  He  had  other  conquests  to  achieve,  but  he  had 
accomplished  the  most  difficult,  in  some  respects  the  most  im- 
portant, of  them  all, — he  had  made  the  conquest  of  Boston. 
From  this  moment  his  friends  watched  him  with  a  feeling  of 
pride  mingled  with  awe,  while  he  continued  to  stride  forward 
and  upward,  as  if  there  had  been  placed  no  limit  to  his  power. 


/ 


CHAPTER  XII. 

1877-1878. 

RELIGIOUS  DOUBT.  YALE  LECTURES  ON  PREACHING. 
THE  TEACHING  OF  RELIGION.  THE  PULPIT  AND 
POPULAR   SKEPTICISM.      THE   INFLUENCE   OF  JESUS. 

The  early  years  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  Boston  corresponding 
with  the  decade  of  the  seventies  were  important  for  the  develop- 
ment of  his  theological  attitude.  He  entered  more  fully  into  the 
possession  of  himself  in  his  relation  to  his  world.  He  became 
the  author  of  important  books  which  revealed  him  to  a  larger 
audience,  and  in  these  he  found  an  opportunity  of  asserting  the 
distinctive  truth  for  which  he  stood  more  powerfully  than  in  his 
briefer  utterances  in  the  pulpit.  He  had  a  message  of  his  own, 
which  for  many  years  he  had  been  maturing,  revolving  it  in  his 
mind  from  the  time  when  in  the  Virginia  seminary  he  had  first 
asked  himself  what  was  the  source  of  power,  or  how  the  power 
should  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  will.  He  was  now  constantly 
facing  the  issue  whether  Christianity  were  still  to  abide  as  a  force 
in  modern  life,  or  had  run  its  course  and  become  an  outworn 
thing  of  the  past.  The  decade  of  the  seventies  was  marked  by 
an  eclipse  of  the  faith;  when  men  were  troubled  and  walked  in 
darkness.  In  the  long  range  of  Christian  experience,  there  had 
never  been  a  darker  moment.  The  poetry  of  Matthew  Arnold 
remains  a  monument  to  the  distress' of  the  hour.  In  his  "Dover 
Beach,"  or  in  "Obermann  once  more,"  one  may  see  how  despair- 
ing was  the  mood  which  the  wide-spread  skepticism  entailed. 
To  such  an  age,  in  danger  of  abandoning  faith  in  God  and 
Christ  and  the  Church,  Phillips  Brooks  now  addressed  himself, 
and  with  hitherto  unequalled  manifestation  of  his  power. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1877,  when  the  building  commit- 

295 


296  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tee  of  Trinity  Church  were  making  strenuous  efforts  to  hasten 
its  completion,  he  went  to  New  Haven  to  deliver  his  "  Lectures  on 
Preaching  "  before  the  students  of  the  Yale  Divinity  School.  It 
was  a  time  of  unusual  excitement  when  he  was  writing  the  lec- 
tures, an  excitement  and  enthusiasm  which  culminated  in  their 
delivery.  So  deeply  was  he  moved  that  for  some  reason  he 
could  not  bear  to  make  the  journeys  to  New  Haven  alone,  and 
took  with  him  one  of  his  relatives.  The  event  stirred  him  the 
more  deeply  because  he  was  unveiling  his  own  personal  experi- 
ence, as  he  had  felt  compelled  to  review  it  when  he  sought  to 
explain  the  secret  which  made  the  pulpit  effective.  jJThe  great 
■^  [charm  of  the  Yale  Lectures,  from  a  literary  point  of  view,  is  that 
they  constitute  the  confessions  of  a  great  preacher.  The  book  is 
personal  throughout.  Whether  he  speaks  of  himself  in  the  first 
person,  or  veils  the  revelation,  he  is  giving  himself  in  the  most 
[mtimate  mannerTJ  In  the  passage  following  he  may  be  regarded 
as  speaking  out  of  his  own  experience : 

"There  is  something  beautiful  to  me  in  the  way  in  which  the 
utterance  of  the  best  part  of  a  man's  own  life,  its  essence,  its 
result,  which  the  pulpit  makes  possible  and  even  tempts,  is  wel- 
comed by  many  men,  who  seem  to  find  all  other  utterance  of 
themselves  impossible.  I  have  known  shy,  reserved  men  who, 
standing  in  their  pulpits,  have  drawn  back  before  a  thousand  eyes 
veils  that  were  sacredly  closed  when  only  one  friend's  eyes  could 
see.  You  might  talk  with  them  a  hundred  times,  and  you  would 
not  learn  so  much  of  what  they  were  as  if  you  once  heard  them 
preach.  It  was  partly  the  impersonality  of  the  great  congrega- 
tion. Humanity,  without  the  offence  of  individuality,  stood 
there  before  them.  It  was  no  violation  of  their  loyalty  to  them- 
selves to  tell  their  secret  to  mankind.  It  was  a  man  who  silenced 
them.  But  also,  besides  this,  it  was,  I  think,  that  the  sight  of 
many  waiting  faces  set  free  in  them  a  new,  clear  knowledge  of 
what  their  truth  or  secret  was,  unsnarled  it  from  the  petty  cir- 
cumstances into  which  it  had  been  entangled,  called  it  first  into 
clear  consciousness,  and  then  tempted  it  into  utterance  with  an 
authority  which  they  did  not  recognize  in  an  individual  curiosity 
demanding  the  details  of  their  life.  Our  race,  represented  in  a 
great  assembly,  has  more  authority  and  more  beguilement  for 
many  of  us  than  a  single  man,  however  near  he  may  be.  And  he 
who  is  silent  before  the  interviewer  pours  out  the  very  depth  of 
his  soul  to  the  great  multitude.  He  will  not  print  his  diary  for 
the  world  to  read,  but  he  will  tell  his  fellow-men  what  Christ  may 


LECTURES  ON  PREACHING        297 

be  to  them,  so  that  they  shall  see,  as  God  sees,  what  Christ  has 
been  to  him."     (Pp.  121,  122.) 

The  "Lectures  on  Preaching"  possess  a  further  charm  because 
they  connect  the  pulpit  with  life.  The  book  took  its  place  as  a 
contribution  to  literature,  as  well  as  a  treatise  on  homiletics.  It 
shows  the  scholar  and  the  man  widely  read  in  the  world's  best 
books.  The  work  done  in  the  Virginia  seminary,  as  seen  in  the 
note-books,  is  constantly  reappearing.  The  movement  is  rapid ; 
there  is  no  lingering  by  the  way;  every  page  is  full  of  condensed 
purpose.  There  is  nothing  artificial,  no  posing  for  effect;  but 
plainness  and  great  directness  of  speech,  naturalness  and  sim- 
plicity. The  book  captivates  the  reader  because  of  the  trans- 
parency of  the  soul  of  its  writer,  between  whom  and  the  reader 
there  intervenes  no  barrier.  And  further  it  is  redolent  with 
hope,  it  encourages  and  it  cheers,  and  has  the  effect  of  reconciling 
us  with  life.     It  abounds  in  sentences  which  linger  in  the  mind: 

"There  must  be  a  man  behind  every  sermon." 

"The  intercourse  with  God  in  history." 

"The  real  power  of  your  oratory  must  be  your  own  intelligent 
delight  in  what  you  are  doing." 

"You  grow  so  familiar  with  the  theory  of  repentance  that  it  is 
hard  for  you  to  know  that  you  have  not  yourself  repented." 

"If  you  could  make  all  men  think  alike,  it  would  be  very  much 
as  if  no  man  thought  at  all,  as  when  the  whole  earth  moves  to- 
gether all  things  seem  still." 

"To  be  dead  in  earnest  is  to  be  eloquent." 

"The  personal  interest  of  the  preacher  is  the  buoyant  air  that 
fills  the  mass  and  lifts  it." 

"The  sermon  is  truth  and  man  together.  It  is  the  truth  brought 
through  the  man." 

"The  temptation  from  being  messengers  to  be  witnesses  of  the 
faith." 

"Say  nothing  which  you  do  not  believe  to  be  true,  because  you 
think  it  may  be  helpful.  Keep  back  nothing  which  you  know  to 
be  true  because  you  think  it  may  be  harmful." 

"This  value  of  the  human  soul  is  something  more  than  a  mere 
sense  of  the  soul's  danger.  It  is  a  deliberate  estimate  set  upon 
man's  spiritual  nature  in  view  of  its  possibilities." 

"Never  allow  yourself  to  feel  equal  to  your  work." 

"Success  is  always  sure  to  bring  humility.  'Recognition,'  said 
Hawthorne,  'makes  a  man  very  modest.' " 


298  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

In  addition  to  literary  charm  and  autobiographical  interest,  the 
"  Lectures  on  Preaching"  have  further  significance  in  the  assertion 
in  a  more  developed  form  of  the  leading  idea  of  Phillips  Brooks 
that  truth  and  moral  efficiency  are  contagious  and  pass  from 
man  to  man  through  the  medium  of  personality.  The  subject 
had  been  long  before  his  mind,  and  he  had  given  utterance  to  it 
on  various  occasions,  so  that  it  had  been  accumulating  in  momen- 
tum when  he  went  to  Yale  in  1877.  He  now  placed  it  in  the 
foreground  and  gave  it  a  new  emphasis.  It  was  the  dominant 
note  in  his  first  lecture  and  sounded  throughout  the  course. 

"Preaching  is  the  bringing  of  truth  through  personality.  .  . 
Jesus  chose  this  method  of  extending  the  knowledge  of  Himself 
through  the  world.  However  the  gospel  may  be  capable  of 
statement  in  dogmatic  form,  its  truest  statement  is  not  in  dogma 
but  in  a  personal  life.  Christianity  is  Christ.  A  truth  which 
is  of  such  peculiar  character  that  a  person  can  stand  forth  and 
say  of  it.  '  I  am  the  truth,'  must  always  be  best  conveyed 
through  personality.  'As  my  Father  hath  sent  me  info  the 
world,  even  so  have  I  sent  you  into  the  world. '  It  was  the 
continuation  out  to  the  minutest  ramifications  of  the  new  system 
of  influence,  of  that  personal  method  which  the  Incarnation  itself 
had  solved.  Nothing  can  ever  take  the  place  of  preaching 
because  of  the  personal  element  that  is  in  it."  (P.  7.) 

The  principle  that  truth  is  made  powerful  and  contagious 
through  personality  harmonizes  the  conflict  between  the  corpor- 
ate and  the  individual  conception  of  the  Christian  life  and  puts 
us  in  right  relations  with  historic  Christianity. 

"The  message  can  never  be  told  as  if  we  were  the  first  to  tell 
it.  It  is  the  same  message  which  the  Church  has  told  in  all  the 
ages.  He  who  tells  it  to-day  is  backed  by  all  the  multitude  who 
have  told  it  in  the  past.  He  is  companied  by  those  who  are 
telling  it  now.  The  message  is  his  witness,  but  a  part  of  the 
assurance  with  which  he  has  received  it  comes  from  the  fact 
of  its  being  the  identical  message  which  has  come  down  from 
the  beginning.  .  .  .  All  outward  utterances  of  the  perpetual 
identity  of  the  Church  are  valuable  only  as  they  assert  this  real 
identity.  This  is  the  real  meaning  of  the  perpetuation  of  old 
ceremonies,  the  use  of  ancient  liturgies,  the  clinging  to  what 
seem  to  be  apostolic  types  of  government  "  (P.  18.) 

"The  religion  of  Christ  had  been  first  implanted  as  a  leaven 
in  humanity  by  the  personality  of  its  founder  and  from  that 


LECTURES  ON  PREACHING         299 

time  had  never  been  without  its  witnesses  — the  children  of  God 
in  every  generation." 

"The  preacher  must  possess  the  character  which  comes  from 
association  with  Christ." 

"Personal  piety  is  the  deep  possession  in  one's  own  soul  of  the 
faith  and  hope  and  resolution  which  are  to  be  offered  to  one's 
fellow-men  for  their  new  life.  .  .  .  Nothing  but  fire  kindles  fire. 
...  To  live  in  Christ  and  to  be  His  and  not  our  own,  makes 
preaching  a  perpetual  privilege  and  joy." 

The  eloquence  of  the ' '  Lectures  on  Preaching ' '  culminates  in  the 
closing  chapter  where  he  describes  the  value  of  the  human  soul. 
To  this  exposition  he  attached  high  importance.  When  some 
correspondent  spoke  to  him  of  its  significance  he  answered  that 
he  wrote  the  book  for  the  sake  of  enforcing  this  truth, — that  in 
the  love  and  reverence  for  human  souls  lay  the  deepest  secret 
of  power  in  the  ministry.  This  was  his  own  characteristic  in  an 
extraordinary  degree.  His  love  for  humanity,  his  reverence 
for  man  as  such,  grew  with  his  years.  He  loved  places  and 
things,  he  loved  nature,  but  above  all  he  loved  humanity.  It 
made  his  heart  leap  up  when  he  beheld  the  waiting  congregation. 
No  one  can  forget  the  look  that  he  gave  when  he  had  ascended 
the  pulpit,  as  if  to  draw  in  the  inspiration  for  the  effect  that  was 
to  follow  before  he  bent  himnelf  with  the  fervor  and  tumult  of 
his  powerful  soul  to  the  communication  of  his  message. 

The  "Lectures  on  Preaching"  were  an  event  in  the  history  of 
the  pulpit.  Phillips  Brooks  had  now  added  theological  students 
and  seminaries  to  his  other  conquests.  Professors  of  homi- 
letics  were  among  the  first  to  respond.  Letters  poured  in 
upon  him  from  every  quarter  expressing  appreciation  and  deep 
gratitude.  One  of  these  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen,  and  it 
only  says  what  all  were  saying : 

"I  believe  neither  the  English  language  nor  any  other  has 
anything  worthy  to  stand  beside  them,  treating  such  a  theme, — 
judging  the  wide  reading,  the  wit,  the  wisdom,  the  mental  grasp 
of  the  problem,  the  keenness  of  the  analysis,  the  profoundness  of 
the  insight,  or  the  perfect  comprehension  of  the  problems  of  our 
day.  .  .  .  That  book  I  would  lay  beside  the  Bible  of  every 
young  minister  to-day.  I  would  have  every  preacher  read  it 
every  year  as  long  as  he  lives." 


3oo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

The  Yale  Lectures  were  followed  by  a  demand  for  a  volume  of 
his  sermons,  as  was  to  have  been  expected;  and  from  so  many- 
directions  as  to  constitute  an  imperative  call.  In  response  to 
the  demand  he  selected  twenty  out  of  some  six  hundred  which 
he  had  written.  The  principle  guiding  the  selection  it  would  be 
difficult  to  determine.  What  strikes  the  reader  in  the  titles  of 
the  sermons  is  the  large  proportion  assigned  to  topics  of  comfort 
and  consolation:  "The  Purpose  and  Use  of  Comfort,"  "The  With- 
held Completions  of  Life,"  "The  Soul's  Refuge  in  God,"  "  The 
Consolations  of  God."  One  other  sermon  similar  in  tone  is  from 
the  text,  "  Brethren,  the  time  is  short."  There  seems  something 
incongruous  between  the  prevailing  tone  of  the  sermons  and  the 
man  who,  in  his  letters,  or  as  he  appeared  in  familiar  conversa- 
tion, abounded  in  humor,  in  mirth  and  vitality,  as  if  he  had 
known  neither  trouble  nor  sorrow.  A  person  who  had  gone 
through  great  trials  and  had  gained  comfort  from  the  reading 
of  the  sermons  wrote  to  him: 

"  'How  did  my  brother  find  this  out?'  'With  a  great  sum 
obtained  I  this  freedom.'  Are  you  freeborn,  or  have  you  passed 
all  through  that  way  that  even  He  trod,  made  perfect  through 
suffering?  .  .  .  Not  since  Robertson's  beautiful  sermons  has 
anything  found  me, and  found  me  in  such  deep  places(as  Coleridge 
said  of  the  Bible),  as  your  sermons." 

In  answering  this  question  he  never  alluded  to  experiences  of 
his  own.  He  would  sometimes  say  that  one  could  enter  by  imagi- 
nation into  the  experience  of  others.  We  also  know  that  he 
was  constantly  confronted  with  the  problem  of  sorrow  and  suf- 
fering. His  own  personality  attracted  as  by  a  magnet  those  who 
were  in  trouble.  He  suffered  with  them  through  the  tenderness 
of  his  own  soul  and  his  vast  outflow  of  sympathy. 

The  other  sermons  in  this  first  volume  had  made  great  impres- 
sion when  they  were  preached,  but  they  stood  the  test  of  the 
printed  book  and  produced  a  like  impression  when  they  were 
read.  There  is  one  on  the  Trinity,  which  shows  fine  capacity  of 
insight  into  theological  distinctions.  The  sermon  on  "  Humility" 
seemed  to  reveal  a  new  cultus  for  the  highest  Christian  virtue. 
"It  came  upon  me  like  a  flood  of  light,"  wrote  a  venerable  divine, 
whose  crowning  attribute  was  humility.     "The  Positiveness  of 


SERMONS  301 

the  Divine  Life"  enforces  the  truth  which  Chalmers  and  Bush- 
nell  had  proclaimed — "the  expulsive  power  of  a  new  affection." 
The  sermon  for  All  Saints'  Day  is  the  only  one  belonging  to  his 
Philadelphia  ministry  and  is  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  all. 
He  compared  the  modern  with  the  mediaeval  conceptions  of  saint- 
hood: "That  is  the  true  apostolical  saintly  succession,  the  tactual 
succession  of  heart  touching  heart  with  fire." 

The  first  volume  of  sermons  met  with  an  extraordinary  recep- 
tion (1878)  and  reached  a  sale  of  more  than  twenty-five  thousand. 
The  criticism  was  favorable,  more  often  eulogistic  in  the  high- 
est degree.     This  is  representative  of  the  best  judgment: 

"Unlike  Robertson,  Phillips  Brooks  constantly  reminds  us  of 
him.  He  has  the  same  analytical  power ;  the  same  broad  human 
sympathy;  the  same  keen  knowledge  of  human  nature,  toned  and 
tempered  and  made  more  true  by  his  sympathies ;  the  same  mys- 
terious and  indefinable  element  of  divine  life,  so  that  his  message 
comes  with  a  quasi  authority,  wholly  unecclesiastical,  purely  per- 
sonal; and  the  same  undertone  of  sadness,  the  same  touch  of 
pathos,  speaking  low  as  a  man  who  is  saddened  by  his  own  seem- 
ing success." 

What  the  public  press  said  of  his  sermons  was  one  thing,  what 
the  people  were  saying  to  him  was  another.  In  these  personal 
letters  we  are  listening  to  the  secrets,  as  it  were,  of  a  confessional, 
where  people  are  pouring  into  his  ear  their  sorrows,  and  are  telling 
of  the  relief  he  has  given.  From  every  part  of  the  country  the 
letters  came,  from  those  who  had  never  heard  or  seen  him,  as 
well  as  from  those  who  found  a  special  pleasure  in  associating  his 
voice  and  presence  with  the  reading  of  the  printed  page. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  rejoice  to  hear  how  my  life  has  been  made 
richer  and  fuller  through  your  aid,  and  my  poor  blurred  sight  of 
men  as  trees  walking  exchanged  for  clear  outlines  and  effulgent 
day." 

"You  are  speaking  to  men  as  no  one  else  can." 

"No  book  save  the  Bible  gives  me  so  much  strength  and  holy 
ambition." 

"I  covet  your  method  of  presenting  the  truth  of  the  Gospel 
more  than  that  of  any  man  living." 

"  The  volume  has  become  my  vade  mecum.  Your  sermons  are 
the  highest  interpretations  of  Christian  philosophy  ever  uttered 
from  an  American  pulpit." 


3o2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"You  seem  to  me  a  person  who  understands  human  nature 
through  a  close  study  of  yourself,  having  thoroughly  tested  all 
natural  and  acquired  tendencies  and  resistances,  and  with  sympa- 
thetic tenderness  can  tell  others  how  to  live  and  be  victorious." 

"They  have  helped  me  in  a  great  and  almost  nameless  trial 
through  which  I  am  now  passing.  Do  you  know  there  are  trials, 
compared  with  which  even  that  of  a  lifetime  of  bodily  pain  and 
prostration  seems  almost  trivial?  I  cannot  understand  how  you, 
who  have  perfect  health  and  happiness,  can  know  so  much  about 
the  condition  of  those  who  have  neither." 

"To  young  ministers  of  all  our  tribes  they  are  invaluable.  I 
suppose  that  scarcely  a  man  among  our  students  will  fail  to  read 
them,  and  all  who  can  will  own  them.  To  me  they  are  a  refresh- 
ment for  the  cheer  they  give  in  the  assurance  that  the  pulpit  is 
not  waning." 

The  Philadelphia  preaching  differed  in  its  tone  from  his  Boston 
preaching.  It  was  quite  as  mature,  and  even  more  rich,  more 
suggestive  and  interesting,  and  marked  by  his  peculiar  fas- 
cination and  charm  to  a  greater  degree  than  in  his  later  years. 
But  it  was  different  in  tone  and  purpose  and  method.  Out  of 
the  three  hundred  and  seventy-two  sermons  written  in  Phila- 
delphia, he  chose  only  five  for  publication,  a  small  number  out 
of  the  one  hundred  sermons  to  which  he  gave  his  approval  by 
printing  them.  Taking  these  five  as  specimens  it  may  be  said  of 
them  that  they  are  more  poetic  and  imaginative,  with  a  higher 
literary  finish.  There  is  the  sermon,  already  mentioned,  for  All 
Saints'  Day,  1868,  from  the  text:  "After  this  I  beheld  and  lo,  a 
multitude  which  no  man  can  number"1 ;  and  another,  1869,  from 
the  text:  "And  a  vision  appeared  unto  Paul  in  the  night:  There 
stood  a  man  from  Macedonia,  and  prayed  him,  saying,  Come  over 
into  Macedonia  and  help  us"2;  the  third  has  for  its  text:  "So 
speak  ye,  and  so  do,  as  they  that  shall  be  judged  by  the  law  of 
liberty"3 — a  sermon  preached  first  in  1864,  repeated  in  many 
places,  and  always  with  an  impression  which  those  who  heard 
can  never  forget;  the  fourth,  written  in  1868,  based  on  the  pas- 
sage in  Revelation  which  speaks  of  "The  sea  of  glass  mingled 
with  fire"4;  and  the  fifth  entitled  "The  Beautiful  Gate  of  the 
Temple," — a  sermon  first  written  in  1861,  while  in  his  second 
year  in  the  ministry,  but  afterwards  rewritten  in  i873.s 

1  Vol.  i.,  p.  117.  2  Vol.  ii.,  p.  91.  3  Vol.  ii.,  p.  183. 

*  Vol.  iv.,  p.  no.  s  Vol.  iv.,  p.  127. 


SERMONS  303 

Two  causes  were  operative  in  Boston  to  modify  his  preaching — 
causes  at  least  which  may  be  traced,  whatever  other  influences 
may  have  combined  with  them.  There  no  longer  existed  in  Bos- 
ton to  the  same  extent  as  in  Philadelphia  the  traditional  rever- 
ence for  the  clergy  in  their  official  character  as  representing  an 
authoritative  organization.  The  second  cause  was  that  strange 
phenomenon  which  marked  the  seventies  in  the  last  century, — 
the  decline  or  loss  of  religious  faith,  a  falling  away  from  relig- 
ious beliefs,  which  may  be  compared  with  the  ebb  of  the  tide.  In 
Philadelphia  it  had  been  Mr.  Brooks's  method  in  his  sermons  to 
illustrate  and  enforce  old  doctrines  by  fresh  interpretation,  reveal- 
ing fuller  meaning  in  old  formulas,  and  some  deeper  psycho- 
logical law  in  the  spirit  behind  the  letter.  The  change  in  the 
situation  now  called  for  a  different  method.  He  gave  himself 
up  in  one  supreme  effort,  to  understand,  to  meet,  and  to  overcome 
the  evil  of  the  hour.  Into  this  task  went  the  force  which  had 
made  him  great  in  other  ways  in  Philadelphia. 

Among  the  sermons  included  in  the  first  volume  of  his  sermons 
is  a  notable  one,  preached  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  1874,  from 
the  text,  "When  the  Son  of  Man  cometh  shall  he  find  faith  on 
the  earth?  "  In  the  preamble  to  this  sermon,  he  remarks: 
"I  am  led  to  think  and  to  speak  of  the  disturbed  condition  of 
faith  in  our  time.  No  subject  is  more  pressing.  Even  the  most 
careless  man's  thoughts  rest  very  much  upon  it.  It  is  discussed 
and  talked  of  everywhere."  And  again:  "The  most  noticeable 
and  touching  thing  about  such  times  as  ours  is  the  way  in  which 
so  many  of  the  best  men  are  silent  and  will  not  speak." 

The  preacher  was  hopeful,  although  he  offered  no  panacea  for 
the  evil  nor  had  he  faith  in  the  panaceas  offered  by  others.  "  Dog- 
matism and  ritualism  are  all  wrong  when  they  think  themselves 
supremely  believing.  Both  are  really  symptomatic  forms  of 
unbelief."  Nor  can  any  relief  be  obtained  by  renouncing  in- 
dividual freedom  for  traditional  authority.  The  peculiar  feature 
of  the  age  is  that  "it  takes  its  character  from  its  relation  to  what 
has  gone  before  and  what  is  to  come  after  rather  than  from  what 
it  contains  in  itself.  This  gives  it  an  aspect  of  restlessness  and 
unquiet.  It  is  full  of  the  sense  of  having  broken  with  the  past 
and  of  having  not  yet  apprehended  the  future  that  is  to  come." 
Great  results  have  been  achieved,  but  the  price  paid  for  them 


3o4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

has  been  heavy.  "It  is  a  magnificent  story  how  natural  science 
has  brought  out  the  starry  host  of  second  causes  from  their 
obscurity  and  shown  how  He  who  works  everything  works  by 
everything  in  the  world.  This  profuse  discovery  of  means,  how- 
ever, has  clouded  thought  regarding  the  Creator." 

Throughout  this  sermon  for  the  times  runs  the  spirit  of  hope. 
He  is  an  optimist  because  he  believes  in  God.  "  I  do  not  certainly 
say  that  such  a  time  is  best,  though  really  in  my  heart  I  do  not 
think  the  world  has  ever  seen  a  better.  There  must  be  better 
ones  to  come.  The  story  of  the  world  is  not  yet  told.  'We 
are  ancients  of  the  earth  and  in  the  morning  of  the  times.' " 
He  offers  no  solution  of  the  conflict  between  religion  and  science. 
But  it  means  something  that,  in  the  disorder  of  thought  and 
feeling,  so  many  men  are  fleeing  to  the  study  of  orderly 
nature.  He  urges  his  hearers  to  make  much  of  the  experiences 
of  life  which  are  perpetual, — joy,  sorrow,  friendship,  work,  char- 
ity, relations  with  one's  brethren,  for  these  are  eternal.  It  is 
not  religion  itself  that  is  unsettled,  but  it  is  only  the  thoughts 
about  religion  that  are  not  clear.  Love  is  at  the  root  of  every- 
thing. Human  souls  respond  to  the  appealing  nature  and  life 
of  Jesus  Christ.  Here  is  the  great  certainty.  Be  sure  of  God 
and  nothing  can  overthrow  or  drown  you. 

With  the  religious  conflict  of  the  time  Phillips  Brooks  identified 
himself,  watching  the  phases  it  assumed,  brooding  over  the  subject 
in  hours  of  leisure,  in  his  walks  among  men,  as  he  listened  to  the 
casual  conversation,  to  the  tacit  assumptions,  which  implied  more 
than  was  said.  At  the  meetings  of  the  Clericus  Club  the  questions 
of  the  hour  formed  the  staple  element  of  discussion.  He  con- 
tributed his  share  to  the  talk,  but  among  his  other  endowments 
he  had  the  capacity  of  being  the  best  of  listeners.  Every 
meeting  of  the  club  formed  a  picture  to  be  studied.  He  neglected 
no  source  of  information,  and  pre-eminently  he  studied  himself 
in  deep  sincerity.  He  was  preparing  for  some  larger  expression 
of  himself,  waiting  till  the  time  should  come  when  he  could  put 
into  form  what  was  uppermost  in  his  heart. 

In  1878  Mr.  Brooks  went  a  second  time  to  New  Haven, 
giving  two  lectures  before  the  students  of  the  Yale  Divinity 
School  on  the  "Teaching  of  Religion."  In  the  summer  of 
the  same  year  he  made  an  address  before  the  alumni  of  the 


TEACHING  OF  RELIGION  3°5 

theological  seminary  of  Virginia,  when  he  took  for  his  subject, 
"The  Relation  of  the  Pulpit  to  Popular  Skepticism."1  The  two 
themes  are  closely  allied;  in  both  he  was  dealing  with  the  ques- 
tion,— how  to  meet  the  spirit  of  modern  unbelief.  There  are  im- 
portant statements  in  his  treatment  of  these  themes  which  are 
worth  recalling.  He  regarded  it  as  an  encouraging  fact  in  an  age 
of  religious  doubt  that  Christianity  could  be  taught.  As  the 
teacher  developed  the  capacities  latent  in  the  pupil,  so  there  was 
in  every  man  the  capacity  for  religion,  which,  must  be  evoked  by 
the  teacher's  methods.  Three  methods  of  teaching  he  criticised; 
the  dogmatic  or  intellectual,  the  emotional,  and  the  mechanical: 
the  first,  holding  that  religion  is  taught  when  doctrines  or  truths 
have  been  imparted;  the  second,  dwelling  on  the  importance 
of  moving  the  feelings ;  and  the  last,  insisting  on  the  confessional 
and  spiritual  directorship.  The  true  method  of  teaching  religion 
is  where  the  personality  of  the  teacher  invades  the  personality 
of  the  scholar.  The  largest  idea,  which  covers  every  demand  of 
the  ministry,  consists  "in  bringing  the  personal  Christ  to  the 
personal  human  nature."  He  turns  this  point  over  and  reiterates 
it  in  many  varying  forms  of  expression:  "The  object  of  all  the 
teaching  is  to  bring  Christ  to  men."  When  this  principle  is 
recognized  as  fundamental,  other  methods  fall  into  their  true 
relationship ;  doctrine,  emotion,  and  conduct  cease  to  be  counted 
as  valuable  in  themselves,  and  are  valued  as  avenues  through 
which  Christ,  the  personal  Christ,  may  come  to  the  soul. 

He  protests  against  any  tendency  to  "soften"  the  truth  or 
pare  it  down  to  meet  men's  wishes:  "It  is  the  religion  of  most 
demands  that  has  most  ruled  the  world.  The  easy  faiths  have 
been  the  weak  faiths.  Always  it  has  been  easier  to  excite 
fanaticism  than  to  build  up  a  quiet  reasonable  belief": 

"The  hope  of  a  large  general  belief  in  Christian  truth,  more 
general  than  any  that  any  past  age  has  witnessed,  does,  no  doubt, 
involve  a  more  reasonable  and  spiritual  presentation  of  it  than 
the  past  has  seen,  but  it  will  never  be  attained  by  making  truth 
meagre.  .  .  .  The  only  real  assurance  against  unreal,  fantastic, 

•  The  first  of  the  two  lectures  on  the  "Teaching  of  Religion"  has  been 
published  in  Essays  and  Addresses,  the  second  is  still  in  manuscript. 
The  essay  on  the  "Pulpit  and  Popular  Skepticism"  is  also  included  in 
Essays  and  Addresses. 


3o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

sensational,  indulgent  teaching  about  Christ  is  the  teacher's  own 
complete  conviction,  from  his  own  experience,  of  the  perfection 
and  sufficiency  of  Christ,  just  as  Christ  is." 

As  to  religious  controversy,  though  he  does  not  condemn  it  in 
the  past,  yet  there  are  conditions  of  the  public  mind  when  a  man 
must  set  his  face  against  it.  It  is  bad  to  cry,  "Peace,  peace!" 
when  there  is  no  peace.  It  is  just  as  bad,  in  some  ways  it  is 
worse,  to  cry,  "War,  war!"  when  there  is  no  war. 

"It  seems  to  me  as  if,  were  I  a  layman  in  the  days  when  some 
doctrine  had  got  loose  as  it  were  into  the  wind  and  was  being 
blown  across  the  Common  and  up  and  down  the  streets,  I  should 
go  to  church  on  Sunday,  not  wanting  my  minister  to  give  me  an 
oracular  answer  to  all  the  questions  which  had  been  started  about 
it,  which  I  should  not  believe  if  he  did  give  it,  but  hcping  that 
out  of  his  sermon  I  might  refresh  my  knowledge  of  Christ,  get 
Him,  His  nature,  His  work,  and  His  desire  for  me  once  more 
clear  before  me,  and  go  out  more  ready  to  see  this  disputed  truth 
of  the  moment  in  His  light  and  as  an  utterance  of  Him.  .  .  . 
Preaching  Christ/  That  old  phrase,  which  has  been  so  often  the 
very  watchword  of  cant,  how  it  still  declares  the  true  nature  of 
Christian  teaching!  Not  Christianity,  but  Christ!  Not  a  doc- 
trine, but  a  Person!  Christianity  only  for  Christ!  The  doctrine 
only  for  the  Person!" 

There  occurs  a  passage  here  which  is  so  exact  a  description 
of  his  own  preaching,  and  of  his  own  mysterious  power,  that  it 
deserves  quotation: 

"A  man  comes  and  stands  before  a  multitude  of  his  fellow-men 
and  tells  them  a  story.  It  is  of  something  which  happened  long 
ago,  yet  which  concerns  them.  It  is  of  something  which  happened 
in  one  special  time  and  set  of  circumstances,  yet  it  is  universal. 
As  he  speaks,  his  fellow-men  who  listen  begin  to  change  before 
him.  They  flush  and  glow;  .  .  .  they  tremble  in  their  seats; 
they  almost  leap  to  their  feet ;  tears  start  into  their  eyes.  It  is  a 
most  attractive  spectacle.  It  fires  the  speaker,  and  he  goes  on  to 
make  yet  more  intense  and  glowing  the  emotion  that  reacts  on 
him.  One  who  stands  by  and  gazes,  though  he  may  not  hear  a 
word,  is  caught  with  the  thrilling,  beating  atmosphere,  and  finds 
himself  trembling  with  mysterious  desires.  The  voice  stops,  but 
the  spell  is  not  broken.  The  people  rise  and  go  away  exalted. 
They  tread  the  pavement  as  if  it  sprang  beneath  their  feet  and 


TEACHING  OF  RELIGION  307 

breathe  the  air  as  if  it  were  alive  with  beautiful  and  serious 
thoughts." 

While  he  is  not  willing  to  give  the  foremost  place  to  feeling 
in  religion,  he  recognizes  its  true  place  and  importance.  In  this 
connection  he  speaks  of  music  and  its  function  in  worship, — 
his  own  reflection  as  he  stood  in  church  or  pulpit,  while  the 
service  of  song  was  performed: 

"Church  music  is  the  general  utterance  of  the  melodiousness, 
the  joy,  the  poetry  of  religion.  And  second,  it  is  the  special 
means  by  which  a  special  truth  is  fastened  on  the  soul,  and  a 
special  duty  made  winning  and  authoritative.  .  .  .  When  a 
great  congregation  is  to  praise  the  Lord  and  to  learn  truth  and 
duty  by  the  melody  of  song,  I  for  one  should  be  sorry  to  have  it 
lose  either  of  the  two  exaltations,  either  that  which  comes  of  the 
great,  simple,  sublime  utterance  of  its  own  emotion,  or  that 
which  comes  from  listening  while  voices  which  the  Lord  has 
filled  with  the  gold  and  silver  of  His  choicest  and  most  mysterious 
harmony  reveal  to  us  the  full  beauty  of  truth  and  the  full  sweet- 
ness and  sacredness  of  duty." 

Here  is  another  passage  where  he  speaks  of  the  music  of 
preaching,  and  throws  light  upon  his  own  work  in  the  pulpit: 

"What  I  have  said  of  music  applies,  I  think,  to  all  the  graces 
and  appealing  tones  of  the  preacher's  art.  There  is  a  music 
of  preaching.  What  the  melody  of  a  hymn  is  to  its  words,  that 
the  eloquence  of  the  preacher  is  to  his  truth.  .  .  .  We  are  afraid 
of  eloquence  nowadays.  Eloquence  of  style  or  gesture  has 
acquired  a  suspicion  of  unreality.  It  has  gone  out  of  favor  in 
our  colleges.  It  only  lingers  in  our  pulpits  here  and  there.  The 
fact  that  there  is  where  it  lingers  makes  us  sometimes  hope  that 
there  is  where  it  shall  be  born  into  new  power." 

In  the  lectures  on  the  "Teaching  of  Religion"  Phillips  Brooks 
followed  the  conventional  method  of  finding  a  place  in  religion 
for  intellect,  feeling,  and  will.  But  already  he  is  inclined  to  doubt 
the  value  of  this  method,  although  he  does  not  yet  discard  it. 
The  supreme  place,  however,  is  assigned  to  the  will  as  the  goal 
to  which  come  intellect  and  feeling.  He  gives  his  own  definition 
of  religion,  and  among  the  many  definitions  it  deserves  a  place 
for  its  distinctive  quality :  "Religion  is  the  life  of  man  in  grati- 
tude and  obedience  and  gradually  developing  likeness  to  God"; 


3o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

and  "the  Christian  religion  is  the  life  of  man  in  gratitude  and 
obedience  and  growing  likeness  to  God  in  Christ.  Religion  is 
not  service  simply,  nor  is  it  grateful  love  alone,  but  gratitude 
assured  by  obedience,  obedience  uttering  gratitude."  No 
ancient  Roman,  pagan  or  Christian,  ever  asserted  more  strongly 
the  claim  of  obedience  to  be  the  highest  virtue.  A  most  im- 
pressive catena  of  passages  might  be  selected  from  his  sermons 
in  which  he  glorifies  obedience.  It  is  not  the  badge  of  servitude, 
but  of  freedom  and  equality.  It  is  the  mightiest  of  words,  be- 
cause it  stands  for  the  final  expression  of  the  man  in  whom 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  has  entered,  taking  possession  of  the 
whole  range  of  being.  The  obedience  of  Christ  was  the  crown 
of  His  glory,  the  badge  of  His  divinity.  And  in  order  to  obe- 
dience the  freedom  of  the  will,  in  every  sense  of  the  word  "free- 
dom," is  the  inalienable  prerogative  of  man. 

The  essay  on  "The  Pulpit  and  Popular  Skepticism"  was  pub- 
lished in  the  Princeton  Review  (1879),  and  in  pamphlet  form,  and 
had  a  wide  circulation.  In  speaking  of  the  deeper  sources  of 
unbelief  he  says: 

"  It  is  not  the  difficulty  of  this  or  that  doctrine  that  makes  men 
skeptics  to-day.  It  is  rather  the  play  of  all  life  upon  the  funda- 
mental grounds  and  general  structure  of  faith.  .  .  .  Let  this 
not  seem  too  large  or  lofty  an  explanation  of  the  commonplace 
phenomena  of  doubt,  which  are  thick  around  us  in  our  con- 
gregations in  the  world.  The  reason  why  my  hearer,  who  sits 
moodily  or  scornfully  or  sadly  before  me  in  his  pew,  and  does 
not  cordially  believe  a  word  of  what  I  preach  to  him,  the 
reason  why  he  disbelieves  is  not  that  he  has  found  the  evidence 
for  inspiration  or  for  Christ's  divinity  or  for  the  Atonement  un- 
satisfactory. It  is  that  the  aspect  of  the  world,  which  is  fate, 
has  been  too  strong  for  the  fundamental  religion  of  the  world, 
which  is  Providence.  And  the  temptation  of  the  world,  which 
is  self-indulgence,  has  seemed  to  make  impossible  the  precept 
of  religion,  which  is  self -surrender ;  and  the  tendency  of  exper- 
ience, which  is  hopelessness,  has  made  the  tendency  of  the 
gospel,  which  is  hope,  to  seem  unreal  and  unbelievable." 

Because  this  is  the  character  of  the  skepticism  of  the  time  it 
cannot  be  overcome  by  any  special  skill  in  proving  this  truth  or 
disproving  that  error.  The  mind  of  the  people  and  of  the  clergy 
is  confused  and  doubtful  about  the  once  received  doctrines  of 


POPULAR  SKEPTICISM  309 

"verbal  inspiration"  and  of  endless  punishment.  Let  the  clergy- 
be  candid  in  dealing  with  these  points.  "A  large  acquaintance 
with  clerical  life  has  led  me  to  think  that  almost  any  company  of 
clergymen  gathering  together  and  talking  freely  to  one  another 
will  express  opinions  which  would  greatly  surprise  and  at  the 
same  time  relieve  the  congregations  who  ordinarily  listen  to  these 
ministers."  The  old  talk  about  holding  the  outworks  as  long  as 
possible  before  retreating  to  the  citadel  is  based  upon  a  metaphor 
than  which  none  could  be  more  mischievous.  It  is  a  dangerous 
experiment  for  parents  to  try  with  their  children,  teaching  them 
what  they  themselves  have  long  since  ceased  to  believe. 

He  repeats  what  he  had  already  said  in  his  lectures  on  the 
"Teaching  of  Religion,"  that  it  is  a  foolish  and  base  idea  to  sup- 
pose that  in  days  like  these  men  want  to  have  Christian  truth 
made  slight  and  easy  for  them.  In  this  connection  he  utters 
what  seems  like  a  prophecy  that  has  been  fulfilled : 

"  It  would  be  no  strange  issue  of  such  times  as  we  are  living  in, 
if  out  of  them  should  come  a  great  demand  for  difficult  doctrine, 
a  time  of  superstition,  a  fever  to  succeed  the  chill ;  for  the  spirit 
that  cries,  'Credo  quia  impossibile,'  the  heroic  spirit  of  faith,  is 
too  deep  in  our  human  nature  for  any  one  century  to  have  eradi- 
cated it." 

After  discussing  the  question  of  doctrines,  and  urging  that  they 
must  be  shown  to  have  some  necessary  connection  with  righteous- 
ness of  character  if  they  are  to  be  re-established  in  the  minds  of 
men,  he  adds: 

"There  are  doctrinal  statements,  which  puzzle  and  bewilder, 
which  are  in  reality  excrescences  on  the  faith  and  must  be  cast 
away  by  the  natural  and  healthy  action  of  the  system.  There 
are  doctrinal  statements,  which  once  were  true  and  did  vast 
good  and  yet  were  only  temporary  aspects  of  the  truth.  There 
are  men  living  by  them  still,  as  men  are  still  seeing  the  light  of 
the  stars  extinguished  in  the  heavens  long  ago.  The  time  will 
come  when  these  temporary  statements  will  disappear,  and  when 
their  light  goes  out  it  will  be  of  all  importance  that  men  recog- 
nize the  sun  by  whose  light  these  accidental  and  temporary  points 
of  its  exhibition  have  been  shining. 

"This  sun  of  all  truth  is  the  person  of  Christ.  The  characteris- 
tic of  our  modern  Christianity,  which  correlates  it  with  all  apos- 
tolic times,  is  the  substitution  of  loyalty  to  a  person  in  place  of 


3io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

belief  in  doctrines  as  the  essence  and  test  of  Christian  life.  This 
is  the  simplicity  and  unity  by  which  the  Gospel  can  become  effec- 
tive. These  are  the  ideas  of  Christianity  which  are  in  conflict 
to-day, — one  magnifying  doctrine  whose  great  sin  is  heresy;  the 
other  magnifying  obedience.  To  follow  the  latter  is  in  these 
days,  I  think,  the  best  method  of  dealing  in  the  pulpit  with  pop- 
ular skepticism.  The  superiority  of  this  method,  whose  essence 
is  the  personal  relationship  with  Christ,  lies  in  this — that  it  offers 
'the  highest  picture  of  the  combination  of  stability  with  progress; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  intellectual  conception  is  always 
sacrificing  stability  to  progress  or  progress  to  stability.'  " 

The  age  of  doubt  intensified  the  feeling  that  if  the  various 
bodies  into  which  the  Christian  world  is  divided  could  so  sub- 
ordinate their  differences  as  to  consolidate  into  one  imposing 
organization,  the  Church  could  again  speak  with  authority  to  a 
distracted  age.     On  this  point  Phillips  Brooks  remarks : 

"I  do  not  see  the  slightest  promise  in  any  dimmest  distance  of 
what  is  called  the  organic  unity  of  Christendom  on  the  basis  of 
episcopacy  or  any  other  basis.  I  do  not  see  the  slightest  chance 
of  the  entire  harmonizing  of  Christian  doctrine  throughout  the 
Christian  world, — that  dream  which  men  have  dreamed  ever  since 
Christ  ascended  into  Heaven,  that  sight  which  no  man's  eye  has 
seen  in  any  age.  But  I  do  see  signs  that,  keeping  their  different 
thoughts  concerning  Him  and  His  teachings,  men,  loyal  to  Christ, 
owning  His  love,  trusting  His  love,  may  be  united  in  the  only 
union  which  is  really  valuable  wherever  His  blessed  name  is 
known.  In  that  union,  and  in  that  alone,  can  I  find  myself  truly 
one  alike  with  Peter  and  with  Paul,  alike  with  Origen  and  Atha- 
nasius  and  Augustine,  alike  with  Luther  and  with  Zwingle  and 
with  Calvin  and  with  St.  Francis  and  with  Bishop  Andrews  and 
with  Dr.  Channing,  alike  with  the  prelate  who  ordains  me 
and  with  the  Methodist  or  Baptist  brother  who  is  trying  to  bring 
men  to  the  same  Christ  in  the  same  street  where  I  am  working. 
And  no  union  which  will  not  include  all  these  ought  wholly  to 
satisfy  us,  because  no  other  will  wholly  satisfy  the  last  great 
prayer  of  Jesus." 

And  with  this  statement  he  concludes  his  discussion  of  the 
prevailing   skepticism : 

"My  one  great  comprehensive  answer  then  to  the  question, 
What  is  the  best  method  of  dealing  in  the  pulpit  with  popular 
skepticism?  is  really  this:  Make  known  and  real  to  men  by  every 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS         3« 

means  you  can  command  the  personal  Christ,  not  doctrine  about 
Him,  but  Him;  strike  at  the  tyranny  of  the  physical  life  by  the 
power  of  His  spiritual  presence.  Let  faith  mean,  make  faith 
mean,  trusting  Him  and  trying  to  obey  Him.  Call  any  man  a 
Christian  who  is  following  Him.  Denounce  no  error  as  fatal 
which  does  not  separate  a  soul  from  Him.  Offer  Him  to  the 
world  as  He  offered  and  is  forever  offering  Himself." 

These  words  with  which  Phillips  Brooks  concluded  his  essay 
on  "The  Pulpit  and  Popular  Skepticism"  are  the  keynote  of 
the  Bohlen  Lectures  on  "The  Influence  of  Jesus"  (1879).  Its 
large  circulation  bears  witness  to  the  need  it  met  at  the  time, 
but  it  has  also  enduring  qualities  which  secure  its  permanent 
place  in  religious  literature.  There  have  been  many  studies 
in  the  life  of  Christ  since  its  appearance,  but  none  that  surpasses 
it  in  insight,  in  the  reverend  appreciation  of  that  divine-human 
consciousness  which  no  one  can  ever  hope  entirely  to  fathom. 
Because  it  was  a  work  designed  to  meet  the  special  wants  of  the 
hour,  one  inevitably  recalls,  in  reading  it,  the  tendencies  of  the 
time  when  it  was  written.  It  was  addressed  to  an  age  which 
felt  the  influence  of  modern  science  in  creating  a  new  way  of 
looking  upon  the  world.  This  would  have  been  enough  in  itself 
to  shake  religious  beliefs.  But  combined  with  this  influence 
was  the  effect  of  Biblical  criticism  in  breaking  down  Protestant 
scholasticism.  The  infallibility  of  the  Bible,  which  had  been 
the  basis  of  Protestant  scholastic  systems,  could  not  longer  be 
maintained,  and  with  its  loss  were  endangered  doctrines  such  as 
inspiration  of  Scripture,  the  atonement  of  Christ,  the  endless 
punishment  of  the  wicked.  For  various  reasons  these  doctrines 
had  become  obnoxious,  and  unless  guaranteed  by  infallible  au- 
thority of  some  sort  their  continued  hold  upon  the  Christian 
mind  seemed  precarious.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  press- 
ing question  was, — where  lay  the  authority,  if  there  was  no 
longer  an  infallible  book?  Some  fell  back  upon  the  authority 
of  tradition  expressed  by  General  Councils  and  long-established 
usage.  The  Roman  Church  was  alive  to  the  situation,  and  the 
year  1870  was  considered  opportune  for  declaring  the  infallibility 
of  the  Pope,  in  the  expectation  that  a  distracted  world  would  be 
moved  by  the  announcement.  Others  asserted  the  inward 
authority  of  the  soul  as  divinely  endowed  to  speak  with  finality 


3i2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

upon  religious  truth — the  attitude  of  what  was  then  known  as 
Transcendentalism.  The  questionings  went  further,  and  it  was 
asked,  What  is  Christianity?  What  has  it  done  for  the  world?  or 
is  modern  civilization  so  indebted  to  the  Church  that  it  would 
suffer  loss  from  the  decadence  of  Christian  influence?  This  was 
the  situation  when  Phillips  Brooks  came  to  the  task  of  writing 
the  Bohlen  Lectures,  or  as  it  had  confronted  him  in  his  earlier 
efforts  to  meet  the  scepticism  of  his  age.  Each  successive 
effort  sent  him  to  deeper  inquiry,  enforcing  on  him  the  necessity 
of  seeking  some  positive  substitute  for  that  which  had  been  lost. 
But  he  did  not  come  to  the  inquiry  in  any  scholastic  mood,  or 
with  the  purpose  of  taking  part  in  theological  controversy  in 
order  to  contribute  to  the  solution  of  a  theological  problem. 
The  question  of  authority  resolved  itself  into  the  practical 
issue  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  life. 

At  first,  as  he  planned  his  work,  he  had  proposed  to  answer 
the  question,  "How  far  is  the  present  condition  of  the  social  and 
personal  life  of  Christendom  due  to  Christian  faith?"  The 
question  answered  itself  in  his  mind, — it  must  be  due  to  the 
personal  influence  of  Jesus  in  history.  The  Influence  of  Jesus  was 
then  taken  as  the  title  of  his  book.  From  the  time  when  he 
began  his  preparation  for  the  ministry  he  had  been  in  search  of  a 
stronger  religion  and  a  stronger  Christ  than  the  age  presented. 
He  needed  it  first  for  himself  and  then  for  others.  His  tumultuous 
nature  cried  out  for  strength,  for  some  one  to  obey,  whose  will 
would  subdue  him  and  bring  him  into  the  captivity  wherein  lies 
perfect  freedom.  The  outcry  of  his  soul  was  for  a  powerful 
Christ,  "a  Christ  so  completely  powerful  that  once  perfectly 
present  with  a  human  soul  He  must  master  it  and  it  must  yield 
to  Him.  If  the  reason  why  men  doubt  Him  is  that  they  do  not, 
cannot,  will  not,  see  Him,  then  I  think  it  must  be  certain  that 
what  they  need  is  a  completer,  more  living  presentation  of  His 
personality,  so  that  He  shall  stand  before  them  and  claim  what 
always  was  His  claim,  'Believe  in  Me' — not  'Believe  this  or 
that  about  Me,'  but  'Believe  in  Me.'  "  Like  all  great  men  and 
strong  natures,  Phillips  Brooks  could  live  only  in  contact  with 
strength  and  greatness.  He  complains  that  "Christianity  is  to 
multitudes  of  people  a  purely  abstract  system.  It  has  lost  its 
personal   aspect.     But   Christianity   is  what?     The   service   of 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS         3  n 

Christ.  Its  very  essence  is  its  personality.  It  is  all  built  about 
a  person.  Take  Him  out  and  it  all  falls  to  pieces.  Just  because 
He  has  been  taken  out  of  the  religion  which  many  of  us  call  our 
Christianity,  just  for  that  reason  is  our  Christianity  a  poor  thing 
of  the  remote  brain,  bringing  no  peace  to  our  hearts,  and  no 
strength  to  our  hands,  no  comfort  to  our  sorrows,  and  no  bene- 
diction to  our  joy." 

It  had  constituted  an  epoch  in  the  life  of  Phillips  Brooks  when 
the  book  Ecce  Homo  by  Professor  Seeley  appeared  in  1865.  No 
book  in  his  library  was  more  worn  by  frequent  usage.  It  coin- 
cided with  the  whole  tendency  of  his  own  development.  He 
drew  from  it  profound  inferences  which  the  author  had  not 
contemplated,  but  he  was  one  with  it  in  its  fundamental  con- 
tention that  Christ  was  the  strongest  man  in  human  history. 
The  Christ  of  Ecce  Homo,  as  the  author  presented  the  picture, 
so  explained  and  justified  the  Christ  of  history  that  difficulties 
about  the  narratives  and  sources  no  longer  embarrassed.  A 
strong  man,  with  a  clear  view  of  His  purpose  from  the  moment 
He  began  to  teach ;  no  mere  teacher  uttering  placidly  his  senti- 
ments, but  from  the  first  assuming  the  position  of  an  authorita- 
tive lawgiver,  enforcing  His  word  by  the  most  powerful  of 
sanctions,  calling  into  existence  a  society,  legislating  for  that 
society  to  the  end  of  time, — this  was  in  outline  the  Christ  in  the 
pages  of  Ecce  Homo.  "The  achievement  of  Christ  in  founding  by 
His  single  will  and  power  a  structure  so  durable  and  so  universal 
is  like  no  other  achievement  which  history  records.  The  master- 
pieces of  the  men  of  action  are  coarse  and  common  in  comparison 
with  it,  and  the  masterpieces  of  speculation  flimsy  and  unsub- 
stantial. When  we  speak  of  it  the  commonplaces  of  admiration 
fail  us  altogether."  1 

When  Phillips  Brooks  came  to  Boston  he  encountered  the 
impression  left  by  the  New  England  school  of  Transcendentalists, 
that  no  special  unique  authority  belonged  to  the  person  of 
Christ,  however  great  the  respect  for  the  ideas  he  enunciated. 
It  became  a  commonplace  among  them  to  class  him  with  Plato 
and  Socrates  and  Mohammed,  or  as  one  who  had  contributed 
to  the  world's  stock  of  ideas.  Mr.  Emerson  had  said,  "The  soul 
knows  no  persons."     Theodore  Parker  had  been  the  chief  re- 

1  Cf.  Am.  ed.,  p.  354. 


3i4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

ligious  exponent  of  transcendentalism  in  Boston  (i860).  For  the 
religious  ideal  of  Jesus  he  had  the  profoundest  reverence,  but  he 
could  not  believe  that  the  truth  which  Jesus  taught  depended 
on  His  personality  for  its  propagating  power  in  the  world: 

"It  seems  difficult  to  conceive  any  reason  why  moral  and 
religious  truths  should  rest  for  their  support  on  the  personal 
authority  of  their  revealer,  any  more  than  the  truths  of  science 
on  that  of  him  who  makes  them  known  first  or  most  clearly. 
It  is  hard  to  see  why  the  great  truths  of  Christianity  rest  on  the 
personal  authority  of  Jesus  more  than  the  axioms  of  geometry 
rest  on  the  personal  authority  of  Euclid  or  Archimedes.  The 
authority  of  Jesus,  as  of  all  teachers,  one  would  naturally  think, 
must  rest  on  the  truth  of  his  words,  and  not  their  truth  on  his 
authority.  "l 

Some  of  Parker's  friends  and  sympathizers  were  disturbed  by 
this  statement.  But  he  was  on  fire  with  his  conviction  that 
every  soul  should  be  the  judge  and  arbiter  of  truth  in  virtue  of 
the  gift  of  immediate  vision.  Painful  though  the  statement 
might  be,  he  repeated  it  in  his  later  Discourse  of  Religion,  and 
in  stronger  form:  "If  Christianity  be  true  at  all  it  would  be  just 
as  true  if  Herod  or  Catiline  had  taught  it." 

Upon  this  point  Phillips  Brooks  had  attained  to  permanent 
conviction  at  an  early  period  in  his  ministry.  In  a  sermon  writ- 
ten in  1 86 1  he  had  said: 

"I  maintain  that  all  such  impersonal  truth,  when  it  is  acquired, 
however  much  it  may  do  for  the  sharpening  and  stocking  the 
brains  and  improving  the  outward  conditions  of  mankind,  is  as 
bad  as  useless  as  far  as  any  immediate  effect  upon  the  character 
and  temperament  is  concerned.  All  truth  must  be  brought,  in 
order  to  be  effective,  through  a  personal  medium.  Which  of  us 
can  dare  to  say  that  he  would  hold  the  most  effective  truths  that 
he  believes  in  just  as  much  and  just  in  the  same  way  as  he  does 
now,  if  they  had  come  to  him  anonymously?  .  .  .  We  have 
some  personality  behind  them  all;  a  mother's  voice  yet  trembles 
in  them,  a  father's  authority  makes  them  solemn,  a  teacher's 
enthusiasm  will  not  let  us  count  them  trivial,  and  so  they  first 
have  gained  and  so  they  still  hold  their  great  power  over  us." 

The  Influence  of  Jesus  is  not  a  controversial  treatise.     But 
1  Discourses  of  Matters  pertaining  to  Religion,  p.  244,  Boston,  ed.  184a. 


"THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS "      315 

the  following  passage  from  its  opening  pages  shows  that  the 
author  felt  called  upon  to  resist  the  view  that  the  personal 
character  of  the  teacher  may  be  disconnected  from  the  message: 

"I  have  been  led  to  think  of  Christianity  and  to  speak  of  it, 
at  least  in  these  lectures,  not  as  a  system  of  doctrine,  but  as  a 
personal  force  behind  which  and  in  which  there  lies  one  great 
and  inspiring  idea,  which  it  is  the  work  of  the  personal  force  to 
impress  upon  the  life  of  man,  with  which  the  personal  force  is 
always  struggling  to  fill  mankind.  The  personal  force  is  the 
nature  of  Jesus,  full  of  humanity,  full  of  divinity,  and  powerful 
with  a  love  for  man  which  combines  in  itself  every  element  that 
enters  into  love  of  the  completest  kind.  .  .  .  Every  man's 
power  is  his  idea  multiplied  by  and  projected  through  his  per- 
sonality. The  special  actions  which  he  does  are  only  the  points 
at  which  his  power  shows  itself.  .  .  .  The  power  of  Jesus  is  the 
idea  of  Jesus  multiplied  and  projected  through  the  person  of 
Jesus.  .  .  .  The  message  entrusted  to  the  Son  of  God  when  He 
came  to  be  the  Saviour  of  mankind  was  not  only  something  which 
He  knew  and  taught ;  it  was  something  which  He  was.  .  .  .  The 
idea  and  the  person  are  so  mingled  that  we  cannot  separate  them. 
He  is  the  truth,  and  whoever  receives  Him  becomes  the  son  of 
God"  (pp.  12, 13). 

And  again,  in  another  passage,  he  makes  this  more  definite 
allusion:  "Not  from  simple  brain  to  simple  brain,  as  the  rea- 
soning of  Euclid  comes  to  its  students,  but  from  total  character 
to  total  character,  comes  the  New  Testament  from  God  to 
man"  (p.  234). 

The  lectures  were  written  with  great  rapidity,  for  the  time  at 
his  disposal  was  short.  They  were  begun  at  the  Christmas 
season,  when  the  claims  of  parish  and  social  life  were  most  press- 
ing. He  wrote  out  of  his  own  soul,  full  of  emotion  and  intel- 
lectual fervor.  Many  of  his  sermons  were  here  condensed,  a  ser- 
mon in  a  paragraph;  such,  for  example,  as  he  preached  when 
Principal  Tulloch  was  listening,  with  its  flash  of  insight  and 
reality.  The  constant  study  of  the  Bible  and  of  the  life  of  Christ, 
wherein  he  had  gained  more  than  he  could  give  in  yearly  Bible 
class  or  Lenten  meditations,  or  Wednesday  evening  lectures, 
was  yielding  its  unsuspected  contributions.  The  book  was  done 
in  haste,  but  it  was  the  product  of  the  slow  process  of  years. 
Some  features  of  the  book,  in  its  methods  and  conclusions,  will 


316  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

throw  light  on  the  position  that  Phillips  Brooks  occupied  in  his 
age.  In  the  first  place,  he  attempted  the  portrayal  of  a  Christ 
whose  mastery  was  capable  of  dominating  every  soul,  and  of  sub- 
duing all  humanity  to  Himself.  To  this  end  he  identified  the 
personality  of  Jesus  with  the  essence  of  His  religion.  By  per- 
sonality he  understood  the  inmost  nature  and  character,  that 
within  a  man  which  rules  the  life.  He  had  brought  out  this 
truth  in  his  Lectures  on  Preaching,  and  elsewhere  in  his  writings. 
But  now  he  drags  it  once  more  into  the  foreground  of  a  great 
picture,  presenting  it  with  tireless  energy  and  with  the  eloquence 
of  deep  conviction.  Everything  depends  on  the  prominence 
which  is  given  to  a  principle.  This  is  originality,  to  make  a 
truth  supreme  through  the  setting  which  is  given  it.  Thus  it 
becomes  a  new  truth.  It  was  not  enough  to  present  Christ  as 
a  moral  Guide,  uttering  ethical  precepts  worthy  of  obedience; 
nor  as  the  Master,  imparting  knowledge  and  conveying  infor- 
mation about  the  spiritual  world.  He  was  indeed  the  Way,  and 
He  was  the  Truth,  but  He  was  these  because  He  was  first  the 
Life. 

This  principle  of  the  identification  of  the  personality  of  the 
teacher  with  his  message  might  be  in  danger  of  becoming  a 
formula,  abstract  and  unprofitable,  unless  the  secret  of  the  per- 
sonality of  Jesus  could  be  unveiled,  and  become  the  living  pos- 
session of  humanity.  This  was  the  task  undertaken  in  The 
Influence  of  Jesus,  to  present  the  idea  which  inspired  Him,  the 
clue  to  His  divine  consciousness,  and  the  motive  of  His  acts. 
This  inspiring  idea  is  "the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  the  childhood 
of  every  man  in  Him." 

"Upon  the  race  and  upon  the  individual,  Jesus  is  always 
bringing  into  more  and  more  perfect  revelation  the  certain  truth 
that  man,  and  every  man,  is  the  child  of  God.  This  is  the  sum 
of  the  work  of  the  Incarnation.  A  hundred  other  statements 
regarding  it,  regarding  Him  who  was  incarnate,  are  true;  but 
all  statements  concerning  Him  hold  their  truth  within  this  truth, 
— that  Jesus  came  to  restore  the  fact  of  God's  fatherhood  to 
man's  knowledge  and  to  its  central  place  of  power  over  man's 
life"  (p.  12). 

It  had  been  the  usage  in  the  Evangelical  school,  in  which  Mr. 
Brooks  was  reared,  to  speak  only  of  the  baptized  or  the  regenerate 


-THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS  "       317 

as  the  children  of  God.  From  this  view  he  departs  in  order  to 
build  upon  the  antecedent  truth  that  every  man  is  the  child  of 
God  by  nature.  It  is  because  he  is  the  child  by  nature  that  he 
is  capable  of  becoming  the  child  by  grace.  In  making  this  truth 
a  first  principle  in  his  teaching  he  was  reaffirming  what  was 
taught  in  the  standards  of  the  Anglican  Church,  however  it  had 
been  obscured, — what  Maurice  and  Robertson  and  others  had 
brought  to  light.  He  differed  from  them,  if  he  differed  at  all,  in 
making  it  the  basis  of  his  powerful  appeal  in  the  pulpit,  as  also 
in  making  it  the  central  point  from  which  by  necessary  inference 
proceeded  all  other  religious  teaching.  He  brought  together 
nature  and  grace,  creation  and  redemption,  in  organic  relation- 
ship. All  men  alike  everywhere  inherited  in  virtue  of  their  birth- 
right the  privilege  to  pray,  "Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven." 

"  Surely,  we  cannot  be  wrong  if  we  say  positively  that  to  Christ 
himself  the  truth  that  man  was  God's  child  by  nature  was  the 
great  fact  of  man's  existence;  and  the  desire  that  man  might 
be  God's  child  in  reality  was  the  motive  of  His  own  life  and 
work  "  (p.  20). 

"To  reassert  the  childhood  and  fatherhood  as  an  unlost  truth, 
and  to  re-establish  its  power  as  the  central  fact  of  life;  to  tell  men 
that  they  were,  and  to  make  them  actually  to  be,  the  sons  of  God 
— that  was  the  purpose  of  the  coming  of  Jesus  and  the  shaping 
power  of  his  life.  .  .  . 

"It  is  more  important  than  we  often  think,  that  we  should 
grasp  the  general  idea,  the  general  purpose,  of  the  life  of  Jesus. 
The  Gospels  become  to  us  a  new  book  when  we  no  longer  read 
them  merely  as  the  anecdotes  of  the  life  of  one  who,  with  a  great, 
kind  heart,  went  through  the  world  promiscuously  doing  good  as 
opportunities  occurred  to  Him.  The  drifting  and  haphazard 
currents  gather  themselves  together,  and  we  are  borne  on  with 
the  full  and  enthusiastic  impulse  of  a  great  river  which  knows 
itself  and  knows  the  sea  it  seeks.  And  when  the  ruling  idea  is 
this  which  fills  the  life  of  Jesus,  it  is  doubly  true  that  only  by 
clearly  seizing  it  can  we  get  at  the  heart  and  meaning  of  His  life  " 
(pp.  16,  17). 

Ethics  have  often  been  conceived  as  separable  from  religion. 
Phillips  Brooks  identifies  them: 

"The  difference  between  Christian  morality  and  any  other 
which  the  world  has  seen  does  not  consist  in  the  difference  of  its 
precepts, — for  these  can  be  matched  in  other  codes.     The  motive 


318  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  all  the  injunctions  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  the  Father, 
first  as  the  standard  of  the  moral  life  enforced,  and  then  as  the 
power  by  which  that  standard  is  pursued  and  attained.  There 
is  nothing  abstract  and  cold.  Everything  shines  and  burns  with 
personal  affection.  Be  ye  perfect  even  as  your  Father  which  is 
in  heaven.  Love  your  enemies,  that  ye  may  be  the  children  of 
your  Father.  Let  your  light  shine  before  men  that  they  may 
glorify  your  Father.  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers,  for  they 
shall  be  called  the  children  of  God.  The  idea  of  God  which  fills 
the  great  discourse  is  the  idea  of  the  Father."  If  the  question  is 
raised  whether  this  standard  be  intelligible  and  practicable,  the 
answer  is  derived  from  the  first  great  principle  of  the  Fatherhood 
of  God  and  the  sonship  of  every  man:  "  It  is  in  the  fact  that  He 
is  your  Father,  and  that  you  are  His  child,  that  the  possibility 
of  likeness  lies  and  that  the  kind  of  possible  likeness  is  decreed." 

The  chapter  entitled  "Influence  of  Jesus  on  the  Social  Life  of 
Man"  is  written  under  the  conviction  that  the  key  to  Christ's 
treatment  of  men  is  the  constant  desire  to  foster  the  conscious- 
ness of  divine  sonship  by  intercourse  with  those  who  are  fellow- 
sons  of  the  same  Father.  The  incidents  in  the  life  of  Christ  are 
brought  together  with  singular  felicity  in  illustration  of  this  truth, 
that  the  social  nature  of  man  is  the  provision  at  once  for  his  most 
complete  self-consciousness  and  for  his  fullest  activity  and  effi- 
ciency. So  important  is  the  social  life  in  the  constitution  of 
humanity  that  it  must  needs  have  its  analogue  in  Deity. 

"It  was  by  losing  His  life  in  the  multitude  and  mass  of  lives,  in 
the  body  of  humanity  to  which  He  belonged,  that  Jesus  at  once 
found  His  own  life  and  found  the  lives  of  the  lost,  whom  He  had 
come  to  seek.  At  the  very  outset  He  bore  witness  that  not  in 
absolute  singleness,  not  in  elemental  unity  and  perfect  solitude  of 
being,  is  the  highest  existence  to  be  found.  He  recognized  at 
once  in  man  that  multiplicity  and  power  of  relationship  within 
the  unit  of  humanity  which  makes  the  richness  of  our  human  life. 
If  it  be  so,  as  we  believe  it  is,  that  in  the  constitution  of  humanity 
we  have  the  fairest  written  analogue  and  picture  of  the  Divine 
existence,  then  shall  we  not  say  that  the  human  Christ  gave  us, 
in  the  value  which  He  set  on  human  relationships,  in  His  social 
thought  of  man,  an  insight  into  the  essentialness  and  value  of 
that  social  thought  of  God  which  we  call  the  doctrine  of  the  Trin- 
ity? May  it  not  be  that  only  by  multiplicity  and  interior  self- 
relationship  can  Divinity  have  the  completest  self-consciousness 
and  energy?  Surely,  the  reverent  and  thoughtful  eye  must  see 
some  such  meaning  when  Jesus  himself  makes  the  eternal  com- 


-THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS  "      319 

panionship  of  the  life  of  Deity  the  pattern  and  picture  of  the  best 
society  of  the  souls  of  the  earth,  and  breathes  out  to  His  Father 
these  deep  and  wondrous  words,  'As  thou,  Father,  art  in  Me  and 
I  in  Thee,  that  they  all  may  be  one  in  us.' " 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century  there  was  one  sub- 
ject uppermost  in  the  consciousness  of  thoughtful  minds, — how 
to  maintain  the  goodness  of  God  and  a  divine  Providence  against 
pessimistic  tendencies  which  came  at  first  from  speculative  think- 
ers, yet  somehow  found  a  response  in  the  common  consciousness. 
The  influence  of  this  mood  may  be  traced  in  the  pulpit,  in  more 
emphatic  and  continuous  assertions  of  the  goodness,  the  love, 
the  beneficent  providence  of  God.  If  this  tone  of  preaching 
seemed  to  some  an  effort  to  soften  the  religion,  its  real  motive  lay 
in  a  more  positive  purpose, — the  justification  of  the  ways  of  God 
with  men.  Men  were  becoming  more  keenly  alive  to  the  evil  in 
nature  and  in  the  moral  order.  The  quickened  sensitiveness  of 
an  age  in  which  humanitarian  sentiment  had  been  so  dominant 
as  in  the  nineteenth  century,  proved  a  congenial  soil  for  pessi- 
mistic theories  of  the  universe. 

To  the  new  necessity  Phillips  Brooks  responded.  Before  he 
knew  of  Schopenhauer  and  Hartmann  he  had  become  sensitive 
to  the  issue.  He  felt  the  pleasure  of  living  more  than  most  men, 
but  also  encountered  human  suffering  on  a  large  scale  in  the 
ministrations  of  the  pastoral  charge,  as  well  as  in  his  own  ex- 
perience. To  this  subject  he  now  comes  in  his  third  lecture, 
entitled  "  The  Influence  of  Jesus  on  the  Emotional  Life  of 
Man."  He  had  before  him  the  life  of  Christ  as  the  ideal  ex- 
pression of  humanity;  he  must  enter  into  the  experience  of 
Jesus  by  the  open  door  of  the  common  experience  of  humanity. 

It  tells  us  nothing,  he  remarks,  about  a  life  to  say  that  it 
is  made  up  of  joy  and  pain.  We  discover  very  early  that 
happiness  may  mean  much  or  little;  that  before  we  can  deter- 
mine the  quality  of  a  life  we  must  penetrate  the  consciousness 
that  lies  beneath  the  sorrow  or  the  joy.  The  joy  and  the  pain 
are  simply  the  expressions  of  emotion: 

"The  man  who  lacks  emotion  lacks  expression.  That  which  is 
in  him  remains  within  him,  and  he  cannot  utter  it  or  make  it 
influential.     And  on  the  other  hand  the  man  who  lacks  emotion 


32o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

lacks  receptiveness.  That  which  other  men  are,  if  it  does  not 
make  him  glad  or  sorry,  if  it  gives  him  neither  joy  nor  pain,  does 
not  become  his.  The  emotion  of  lives  is  the  magnetism  that  they 
emit,  something  closely  associated  with  their  substance  and  yet 
distinct  from  it,  in  which  they  communicate  with  one  another. 
There  is  a  condition  conceivable  in  which  the  emotions  should  be 
so  delicately  and  perfectly  true  to  the  quality  of  him  from  which 
they  issue,  that  they  should  furnish  a  perfect  medium  of  expres- 
sion. .  .  .  Can  any  true  connection  be  reliably  traced  between 
the  way  that  a  man  lives  and  the  joy  or  sorrow  his  life  emits? 

"Jesus  always  thinks  of  Himself  as  undergoing  the  will  of  God, 
because  God  is  His  father.  The  pain  and  pleasure  which  come  to 
Him  in  undergoing  that  will  come  not  simply  with  their  own 
inherent  qualities  of  comfort  or  discomfort,  but  with  the  values 
they  get  from  that  obedience  of  which  they  are  the  signs  and  con- 
sequences. This  is  the  key  to  all  His  attitude  towards  them. 
Jesus,  with  all  His  sensitiveness  to  pain  and  joy,  never  allows 
pain  or  joy  to  be  either  the  purpose  of  life  or  the  test  of  life. 

"The  sensitiveness  of  Jesus  to  pain  and  joy  never  leads  Him  for 
a  moment  to  try  to  be  sad  or  happy  with  direct  endeavor;  nor 
is  there  any  sign  that  He  ever  judges  the  real  character  of  Himself 
or  any  other  man  by  the  sadness  or  the  happiness  that  for  the 
moment  covers  His  life.  He  simply  lives,  and  joy  and  sorrow 
issue  from  His  living,  and  cast  their  brightness  and  their  gloomi- 
ness back  upon  His  life;  but  there  is  no  sorrow  and  no  joy  that 
He  ever  sought  for  itself,  and  He  always  kept  self-knowledge 
underneath  the  joy  or  sorrow,  undisturbed  by  the  moment's  hap- 
piness or  unhappiness.  They  were  like  ripples  on  the  surface  of 
the  stream,  made  by  its  flow,  and,  we  are  ready  to  imagine,  en- 
joyed by  the  stream  that  made  them,  not  sought  by  the  stream 
for  themselves,  nor  ever  obscuring  the  stream's  consciousness  of 
its  deeper  currents.  The  supreme  sorrow  of  the  cross  was  never 
sought  because  it  was  sorrowful,  and  even  while  He  hung  in  agony 
it  never  obscured  the  certainty  of  His  own  holiness  in  the  great 
Sufferer's  soul.  These  are  the  perpetual  characteristics  of  the 
emotional  life  of  Jesus,  which  our  theology  has  often  conjured  out 
of  sight,  but  which  are  of  unspeakable  value,  as  I  think;  for  a 
clear  understanding  of  them  puts  the  Man  who  suffered  and  en- 
joyed more  than  any  other  man  that  ever  lived  in  a  noble  and 
true  relation  to  His  suffering  and  joy,  and  makes  His  pain  and 
pleasure  a  gospel  to  men  in  their  sadness  and  their  gladness 
everywhere"  (pp.  156,  157). 

In  the  last  chapter  is  treated  the  influence  of  Jesus  on  the 
intellectual  life  of  man.  In  tone  it  is  still  impersonal,  but  the 
writer  is  disclosing  his  own  method  of  self-culture  and  his  dis- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS        321 

tinctive  attitude  towards  the  theologies  of  his  time.  All  through 
the  chapter  we  move  in  the  atmosphere  of  greatness.  But  it  is 
the  atmosphere  of  poetry  and  beauty  as  well.  The  ease,  the 
grace,  the  repose,  the  transparency  of  the  style,  the  consciousness 
of  mastery,  the  sense  of  finality,  the  irresistible  appeal, — these 
are  the  accompaniments  of  a  strain  of  rich  melody. 

In  the  first  place  he  refuses  to  give  the  intellect  in  man  the 
supremacy  when  taken  by  itself.  He  has  said  this  before,  but 
repeats  it  with  deeper  conviction.  In  speaking  of  the  person 
of  Christ,  he  asks  the  questions:  How  does  Christ  compare  in 
intellectual  power  with  other  men?  How  did  he  estimate  the 
intellect?  Was  His  intellect  sufficient  to  account  for  the  unique 
position  He  holds  in  the  world's  history  as  the  mightiest  force 
that  has  controlled  the  development  of  humanity? 

He  finds  the  answer  by  turning  to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  which 
gives  us  most  that  we  know  about  the  mind  of  Jesus.  It  is 
to  the  other  Gospels  what  Plato  is  to  Xenophon.  He  does 
not  allude  to  questions  of  criticism, — when  it  was  written,  or 
whether  it  was  written  by  John.  He  regards  the  picture  as  its 
own  vindication.  It  is  the  intellectual  Gospel,  because  there 
is  one  constantly  recurring  word, — "truth,"  which  is  distinctly 
a  word  of  the  intellect.  But  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  in  every 
instance,  it  is  employed  in  a  sense  different  from  that  of  the 
schools.  In  its  scholastic  use  it  is  detached  from  life  and  made 
synonymous  with  knowledge.  But  knowledge  is  no  word  of 
Jesus.  With  information  for  the  head  alone,  detached  from 
its  relations  to  the  whole  nature,  Jesus  has  no  concern.  Truth 
was  something  which  set  the  whole  man  free.  It  was  a  moral 
thing,  for  he  who  does  not  receive  it  is  not  merely  a  doubter,  but 
a  liar.  Truth  was  something  which  a  man  could  be,  not  merely 
something  which  a  man  could  study  and  measure  by  walking 
around  it  on  the  outside.  The  objective  and  the  subjective 
lose  themselves  in  each  other.  Truth  can  be  known  only  from 
the  inside;  it  is  something  moral,  something  living,  something 
spiritual.  It  is  not  mere  objective  unity;  it  must  have  in  it 
the  elements  of  character.  "To  this  end  was  I  born,"  says 
Jesus,  "and  for  this  cause  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should 
bear  witness  to  the  truth.  Every  one  that  is  of  the  truth 
heareth  my  voice." 


322  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

From  this  use  of  the  word  "truth"  is  deduced  the  intel- 
lectual portrait  of  Christ,  if  we  may  call  it  such.  The  great  fact 
concerning  the  intellectual  life  in  Jesus  is  this,  that  "in  Him  the 
intellect  never  works  alone.  You  can  never  separate  its  workings 
from  the  complete  operations  of  the  whole  nature.  He  never 
simply  knows,  but  always  loves  and  resolves  at  the  same  time." 
To  this  unity  of  one's  being  there  is  an  approximation  possible 
in  every  man,  as  in  those  moments  of  exaltation  when  a  man 
realizes  himself  in  supreme  degree,  and  the  "intellectual  action, 
without  being  quenched, nay, burning  at  its  very  brightest,  blends 
with  the  quickened  activity  of  all  the  being,  and  is  not  even 
thought  of  by  itself."  This  is  the  meaning  of  Lessing's  re- 
mark, "He  who  does  not  lose  his  reason  in  certain  things  has 
none  to  lose."     Or  again  in  the  lines  of  Wordsworth: 

"  In  such  access  of  mind,  in  such  high  hour 
Of  Visitation  from  the  Living  God, 
Thought  was  not;  in  enjoyment  it  expired." 

In  the  further  exposition  of  this  principle,  he  turns  to  the  com- 
parison of  Jesus  and  Socrates,  placing  the  last  five  chapters  of  the 
Gospel  of  St.  John  by  the  side  of.  the  story  of  the  death  of  Socra- 
tes which  Plato  has  told  in  the  Ph&do.  "Nowhere,"  he  says, 
"could  the  essential  difference  as  well  as  the  likeness  of  the  two 
great  teachers  become  more  apparent."  To  this  comparison 
he  invites  "the  critics  who  loosely  class  Jesus  and  Socrates  to- 
gether," showing  them  where  their  classification  fails,  where  the 
line  runs  beyond  which  Socrates  cannot  go,  "beyond  which  the 
nature  of  Jesus  sweeps  out  of  our  sight." 

When  he  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  just  leaving  the  Latin  School,  it 
had  been  Socrates,  the  "innocent  martyr  for  truth,"  who  had 
fired  Phillips  Brooks  with  zeal  in  the  immortal  quest.  Now  for 
twenty  years  he  had  been  studying  the  life  of  Jesus,  and,  though 
he  had  lost  none  of  his  reverence  and  admiration  for  Socrates, 
there  had  grown  up  in  his  soul  a  higher  and  a  different  reverence, 
mingled  with  love  and  grateful  obedience. 


"  I  know  not  what  to  say  to  any  man  who  does  not  feel  the  dif- 
ference. I  can  almost  dream  what  Socrates  would  say  to  any 
man  who  said  that  there  was  no  difference  between  Jesus  and 
him.     But  how  shall  we  state  the  difference?     One  is  divine  and 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JESUS         323 

human ;  the  other  is  human  only.  One  is  Redeemer ;  the  other  is 
philosopher.  One  is  inspired,  the  other  questions.  One  reveals 
and  the  other  argues.  These  statements  are  doubtless  all  true. 
And  in  them  all  there  is  wrapped  up  this,  which  is  the  truth  of  all 
the  influence  of  Jesus  over  men's  minds,  that  where  Socrates 
brings  an  argument  to  meet  an  objection,  Jesus  always  brings  a 
nature  to  meet  a  nature, — a  whole  being  which  the  truth  has 
filled  with  strength,  to  meet  another  whole  being  which  error  has 
filled  with  feebleness"  (p.  243). 

In  a  few  words,  towards  the  close  of  his  book,  he  ventures  to 
sum  up  the  intellectual  characteristics  of  Christ,  as  He  may  have 
impressed  them  on  His  disciples: 

"A  poetic  conception  of  the  world  we  live  in,  a  willing  accept- 
ance of  mystery,  an  expectation  of  progress  by  development,  an 
absence  of  fastidiousness  that  comes  from  the  possibilities  of  all 
humanity,  and  a  perpetual  enlargement  of  thought  from  the  arbi- 
trary into  the  essential, — these,  I  think,  are  the  intellectual  char- 
acteristics which  Christ's  disciples  gathered  from  their  Master; 
and  I  think  that  we  can  see  that  these  characteristics  make,  as 
we  set  them  together,  a  certain  definite  and  recognizable  type  of 
mental  life,  one  that  we  should  know  from  every  other  if  we  met 
to-day  a  man  in  whom  it  was  embodied." 

This  book,  therefore,  The  Influence  of  Jesus,  may  be  called  the 
Apologia  of  Phillips  Brooks.  It  is  the  defence  of  himself  and  of 
his  method,  the  exposition  of  his  ideal  of  life,  his  final  answer  to 
the  question  how  to  meet  the  doubt,  the  weakness,  the  skepticism 
of  the  time.  Although  he  seemed,  and  indeed  he  was,  in  sym- 
pathy with  his  age,  yet  he  saw  its  defect  and  had  the  quality  of 
resisting  his  environment.  A  one-sided  intellectualism  was  the 
evil  which  had  infected  human  inquiry.  The  things  of  religion 
had  been  hurt  by  a  scholastic  tendency.  He  pointed  out  the 
remedy, — the  influence  of  Jesus  tended  to  the  restoration  of  a 
lost  symmetry.  This  was  the  result  of  his  experience  in  the  first 
ten  years  of  his  Boston  ministry,  which  gives  to  his  preaching  in 
Boston  a  different  tone  from  the  Philadelphia  life.  Then  he  had 
delighted  in  exploiting  the  rich  allegorical  import  of  human  life 
and  human  history,  with  Christ  as  its  centre  and  interpreter. 
The  Boston  ministry  led  him  to  proclaim  the  stronger  Christ,  who 
was  powerful  enough  to  subdue  the  world  to  Himself.     There  are 


324  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

hints  in  this  book  that  another  advance  was  awaiting  him.  At 
times  he  seems  to  be  tempted  to  give  the  primacy  to  the  will. 
When  he  speaks  of  the  obedience  of  Christ,  it  is  clear  that  he  is 
tending  to  divinize  obedience  as  the  potent  faculty  in  Christ, 
through  which  His  inspiration  came,  through  which  came  also  the 
wisdom  of  God.  It  is  in  the  sphere  of  the  will  that  the  intimacy 
is  closer  than  in  the  intellect.  Through  the  perfect  obedience  of 
Christ  comes  the  consciousness  of  oneness  with  the  Father. 
Everywhere  the  inference  is  that  perfect  obedience  of  Christ 
means  not  subordination  or  inferiority,  but  coequality  with  the 
Father.     With  these  eloquent  words  he  closes  the  book: 

"I  dare  not,  I  do  not,  hope  that  I  have  succeeded;  but  I  hope 
that  I  have  not  wholly  failed.  For  to  me  what  I  have  tried  to  say 
is  more  and  more  the  glory  and  the  richness  and  the  sweetness 
of  all  life.  The  idea  of  Jesus  is  the  illumination  and  the  inspi- 
ration of  existence.  Without  it  moral  life  becomes  a  barren  ex- 
pediency, and  social  life  a  hollow  shell,  and  emotional  life  a 
meaningless  excitement,  and  intellectual  life  an  idle  play  or  stupid 
drudgery.  Without  it  the  world  is  a  puzzle,  and  death  a  horror, 
and  eternity  a  blank.  More  and  more  it  shines  the  only  hope  of 
what  without  it  is  all  darkness.  More  and  more  the  wild,  sad, 
frightened  cries  of  men  who  believe  nothing,  and  the  calm,  ear- 
nest, patient  prayers  of  men  who  believe  so  much  that  they  long 
for  perfect  faith,  seem  to  blend  into  the  great  appeal  which  Philip 
of  Bethsaida  made  to  Jesus  at  the  Last  Supper,  where  so  much  of 
our  time  in  these  four  hours  has  been  spent,  '  Lord,  show  us  the 
Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us.'  And  more  and  more  the  only  answer 
to  that  appeal  seems  to  come  from  the  same  blessed  lips  that 
answered  Philip,  the  lips  of  the  Mediator  Jesus,  who  replies, 
1  Have  I  been  so  long  with  you  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me? 
He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.' " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

1877-1880. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRESPONDENCE.  INVITATION  TO 
PREACH  FOR  MR.  MOODY.  SUMMER  IN  EUROPE. 
SERMON  AT  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  DEGREE  OF 
DOCTOR  OF  DIVINITY  CONFERRED  BY  HARVARD 
UNIVERSITY.  COMMENTS  ON  THE  GENERAL  CON- 
VENTION. VISIT  OF  DEAN  STANLEY  TO  AMERICA. 
ILLNESS  AND  DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER.  VISIT  TO 
PHILADELPHIA.  CONVENTION  SERMON.  CORRES- 
PONDENCE. THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  MOTHER.  SER- 
MON   BEFORE    THE    QUEEN.       WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

The  chief  event  in  the  year  1877  was  the  consecration  of  the 
new  Trinity  Church.  Then  had  followed  the  delivery  of  the 
"Lectures  on  Preaching"  before  the  Divinity  School  of  Yale 
University.  During  the  season  of  Lent,  a  "revival"  was  in 
process  in  Boston  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Moody  the  evange- 
list, to  which  Mr.  Brooks  alludes  in  letters  to  his  brother.  He 
was  in  sympathy  with  the  movement: 

"I  have  been  amused  at  the  way  in  which  the  New  York  clergy 
have  given  us  their  blessing  since  we  started.  Dr.  Tyng  preached 
for  us  on  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day,  and  told  us  that  nobody 
could  be  a  Christian  who  did  n't  believe  that  the  world  was  made 
in  six  literal  days.  The  Moses  up  in  the  new  Tower  laughed 
aloud  at  the  statement.  Yesterday  afternoon  Dr.  Morgan  of  St. 
Thomas's  in  your  town  turned  up  and  preached  an  orotund  dis- 
course which  had  quite  a  good  manly  flavor  to  it.  In  conse- 
quence of  his  appearance,  I  find  myself  the  surprised  possessor  of 
a  discourse  which  I  have  never  preached,  an  event  which  has  not 
occurred  before,  except  on  a  Saturday,  for  years.  .  .  . 

"We  are  in  the  rush  of  Lent.     One  talks  until  he  is  tired  of  the 

325 


326  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

sound  of  his  own  voice,  and  then  he  talks  some  more.  There  is  a 
good  healthy  religious  influence,  I  think,  and  underneath  our 
little  work  the  deep  thunder  of  the  Moody  movement  is  rolling  all 
the  time.  .  .  .  As  a  sort  of  variety  in  Lent  I  have  begun  to  read 
Miss  Martineau's  '  Autobiography.'  It  is  as  unlike  a  Lent  lecture 
as  possible.  The  calm  complacency  of  her  unbelief  is  something 
wonderful." 

While  the  revival  meetings  were  in  progress  Mr.  Moody  was 
for  some  reason  unable  to  preach,  and  Mr.  Brooks  was  invited  to 
take  his  place.  It  was  a  most  unusual  circumstance,  that 
an  Episcopal  clergyman,  the  rector  too  of  Trinity  Church,  should 
receive  such  an  invitation.  Many  doubted  whether  Mr.  Brooks 
could  hold  a  congregation  drawn  together  by  Mr.  Moody's  pe- 
culiar gift  of  earnest  and  direct  appeal.  But  he  was  invited 
in  the  confidence  that  the  thousands  who  were  flocking  nightly 
to  the  tent,  or  "  Tabernacle"  as  it  was  called,  where  the  services 
were  held  would  not  be  disappointed  when  they  knew  of  the 
change.  The  confidence  was  not  misplaced.  It  was  an  event 
in  the  history  of  the  revival  that  Phillips  Brooks  had  taken  part  in 
it.  On  that  evening  the  "Tabernacle  "  is  reported  as  filled  to  its 
utmost  capacity.  Mr.  Sankey  sang  "The  Ninety  and  Nine." 
Other  hymns  were'"  Just  as  I  am  without  one  plea,"  and  "'Tis 
the  promise  of  God  full  salvation  to  give."  The  text  from  which 
the  sermon  was  preached  was  the  words  of  St.  Paul  describing 
his  conversion:"  Whereupon,  O  King  Agrippa,  I  was  not  dis- 
obedient unto  the  heavenly  vision."  The  preacher  was  at  his 
best  as  he  unfolded  the  text,  expounding  the  principle  of  con- 
version as  he  himself  had  experienced  it, — that  the  vision  must 
come  first,  to  be  followed  by  obedience,  when  the  sense  of  sin 
would  inevitably  ensue,  but  with  the  assurance  of  forgiveness. 
He  condemned  the  opposite  method  which  sought  first  to  produce 
the  sense  of  sin,  and  after  the  conviction  of  forgiveness  had  been 
attained,  held  out  the  prospect  of  the  heavenly  vision.  He 
assumed  throughout  that  religion  was  natural  to  man,  because 
all  men  were  by  creation  and  by  redemption  the  children  of 
God.  They  had  wandered,  they  had  forgotten  or  neglected  or 
were  ignorant  of  their  birthright;  but  when  the  vision  came, 
it  appealed  to  something  in  every  man's  constitution,  rousing 
within  him  the  dormant  faculties  of  a  divine  relationship. 


PARISH  MINISTRY  327 

It  had  now  been  three  years  since  Mr.  Brooks  had  known  a 
vacation  which  had  brought  him  rest  from  preaching.  During 
the  summer  of  1875  he  had  preached  at  Emmanuel  Church,  Bos- 
ton, and  in  the  summer  of  1876  at  Emmanuel  in  the  morning 
and  at  St.  Mark's  in  the  evening.  His  congregations  were 
composed  of  dwellers  in  the  city  who  could  not  leave,  and  of 
strangers  sojourning  or  passing  through,  who  availed  them- 
selves of  the  opportunity.  This  free  gift  of  himself  met  its 
full  appreciation,  and  was  part  of  the  larger  ministry  to  which 
he  was  dedicated.  But  now  he  had  resolved  upon  a  summer  in 
Europe,  for,  though  he  does  not  mention  it,  the  strain  had  been 
long  and  severe.  When  his  intention  was  known,  the  following 
unanimous  resolution  was  taken  at  a  meeting  of  the  Proprietors 
of  Trinity  Church,  on  Easter  Monday: 

"That  the  Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church,  deeply  sensible  of 
the  great  labors  of  their  Rector  during  the  past  year,  and  of  the 
invaluable  services  which  he  has  rendered  to  the  Church,  desire 
to  express  their  cordial  concurrence  in  his  purpose  to  seek  rest 
and  relaxation  in  foreign  travel  during  the  approaching  summer, 
and  that  the  sum  of  Two  Thousand  dollars  be  appropriated 
towards  defraying  the  expenses  of  his  tour,  with  the  best  wishes 
of  us  all  that  he  may  enjoy  the  vacation  which  he  has  so  richly 
earned,  and  return  to  us  with  fresh  vigor  for  his  work." 

Mr.  Brooks  was  entrusted  with  an  important  commission  in 
London, — to  arrange  for  the  stained  glass  windows  in  the  new 
church,  in  which  he  took  immense  interest.  He  made  a  visit 
to  Groton,  of  which  he  writes  to  Mr.  Winthrop : 

"How  much  I  thank  you  for  sending  me  there.  It  was  a 
delightful  day,  and  the  drive  from  Sudbury  to  Groton  was  very 
charming.  The  Rector  was  most  courteous  and  hospitable,  and 
I  saw  all  that  must  always  make  the  place  very  interesting  to 
Massachusetts  men." 

General  Grant  was  then  in  England,  of  whom  he  writes  as 
the  great  sensation,  eclipsing  all  other  Americans,  "  as  if  they  [the 
English]  wondered  what  we  had  come  for."  He  dined  at  the 
American  Minister's,  and  met  the  "great  warrior."  He  saw 
much  of  Dean  Stanley  and  was  saddened  by  his  appearance,  and 
by  the  change  in  the  Deanery.    On  Sunday,  July  8th,  he  preached 


/ 


328  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

at  Westminster  Abbey.  Canon  Farrar,  whose  acquaintance  he 
made,  wrote  to  him:  "It  was  a  very  great  pleasure  to  me  to 
resign  the  Abbey  pulpit  to  you,  and  very  nobly  you  used  the 
opportunity."  Dean  Stanley,  who  was  present,  listened  with 
delight  to  a  doctrine  after  his  own  heart.  The  text  was  from 
Isaiah  lx.  19:"  The  sun  shall  be  no  more  thy  light  by  day ;  neither 
for  brightness  shall  the  moon  give  light  unto  thee :  but  the  Lord 
shall  be  unto  thee  an  everlasting  light,  and  thy  God  thy  glory." 
The  subject  was  "The  Symbol  and  the  Reality."  At  a  moment 
when  mediaeval  ritual  was  urged  upon  the  modern  church  as 
though  a  mistake  had  been  made  in  abandoning  it,  when  it  was 
argued  that  an  elaborate  and  gorgeous  symbolism  was  a  necessity 
of  the  religious  life,  the  conviction  was  growing  stronger  in  the 
mind  of  the  preacher  that  this  was  not  the  method  which  brought 
the  highest  result,  that  no  symbol  was  doing  its  true  work  unless 
it  was  educating  those  who  used  it  to  do  without  it  if  need  be. 
This  principle  was  applied  not  only  to  religious  symbolism,  but 
to  all  the  symbols  of  life.  Everywhere  the  letter  stands  for  the 
spirit,  and  to  give  up  the  letter,  that  the  spirit  may  live  more 
fully,  becomes  from  time  to  time  the  absolute  necessity. 

While  he  was  in  Holland  he  received  the  news  that  Harvard 
University  had  in  his  absence  conferred  upon  him  the  honorary 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity.  On  the  diploma  sent  to  him  it  read 
that  the  degree  was  given  "in  recognition  of  his  eloquence  as  a 
preacher,  his  dignity  and  purity  of  life  as  a  minister  of  religion, 
and  his  liberality  and  large-mindedness  as  a  man."  To  the 
Rev.  James  P.  Franks,  who  first  conveyed  him  the  news,  he 
wrote : 

"Amsterdam,  July  15,  1877.  I  was  surprised  at  it,  and  of 
course  gratified.  I  had  supposed  the  College  had  given  up  all 
idea  of  making  any  more  D.D's,  and  especially  that  they  would  not 
give  the  degree  to  one  of  their  own  overseers.  But  as  they  have 
thought  good  to  do  it,  I  am  pleased  and  proud,  for  a  Cambridge 
man  thinks  that  there  are  no  honors  like  those  which  come  from 
Cambridge.  Only  I  won't  be  called  Dr.  Brooks,  and  you  may 
stop  that  for  me  when  and  where  you  can.     .     .     . 

"You  are  in  Salem  and  preparing  to  preach  the  gospel  to  S 

to-day.  I  honor  you,  and  I  am  glad  I  am  not  in  your  place. 
Last  Sunday  I  preached  for  Mr.  Stanley  at  his  church  in  London, 
and  William  and  I  were  much  in  the  little  man's  company  while 


PARISH  MINISTRY  329 

we  were  in  his  town.  He  is  very  pleasant  and  entertaining,  but 
much  changed  since  his  wife's  death.  He  has  grown  old,  and 
seems  to  be  fighting  hard  to  keep  up  an  interest  in  things.  The 
usual  collection  of  Broad  Churchmen  was  about  him,  and  con- 
vocation was  sitting  in  Westminister  School  almost  under  his 
roof.  I  heard  a  long  debate  one  day  on  'The  Priest  in  Absolu- 
tion.' On  the  whole,  London  was  delightful  and  I  was  glad  to 
get  out  of  it  for  the  Continent,  as  I  always  am.  I  investigated 
all  the  Glass-makers,  and  found  some  very  interesting  men 
among  them." 

Mr.  Brooks  returned  to  Boston  in  September  to  live  there 
henceforth  under  changed  conditions.  His  father  and  mother 
had  gone  to  North  Andover  to  reside  in  the  old  Phillips  home- 
stead. Forty-four  years  had  elapsed  since  in  the  same  house  to 
which  they  now  returned  they  had  been  married  and  thence 
had  come  to  Boston,  establishing  themselves  in  the  first  home 
on  High  Street.  They  had  seen  six  boys  go  out  from  them 
into  the  world,  four  of  them  still  living,  and  now  that  the  youngest 
had  gone  from  home,  they  looked  to  North  Andover  as  a  retreat 
in  the  decline  of  life.  Mr.  Brooks  would  gladly  have  had  them 
come  to  live  with  him,  and  would  have  made  any  arrangements 
for  that  end ;  he  had  counted  upon  it  as  his  pleasure  and  privilege ; 
but  the  parents  declined  to  accept  such  an  invitation  from  him 
or  any  of  the  other  sons.  It  was  understood  in  the  family  that 
it  was  not  possible.  For  many  years  Mr.  Brooks  had  kept  his 
bachelor  quarters  in  boarding-houses  and  hotels.  He  now  set 
up  housekeeping  for  the  first  time  at  No.  175  Marlborough  Street, 
taking  into  employment  the  servants  who  had  lived  with  his 
mother.  They  served  him  faithfully  and  devotedly  to  the  end 
of  his  life. 

On  the  voyage  home,  Mr.  Brooks  was  taken  with  what  the 
doctor  called  a  slow  fever,  of  which  he  writes,  "It  has  kept  me  a 
good  deal  shut  up  ever  since.  It  is  the  slowest  fever  that  ever 
was  got  up.  The  seat  of  it  is  principally  in  the  back  of  the  knees 
which  give  way  when  you  have  walked  about  a  square.  Alto- 
gether it  is  an  attack  of  general  good-for-nothingness  which  I 
am  tired  of,  and  which  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  hope  is  almost 
over  now."  His  illness  prevented  him  from  attending  the 
sessions  of  the  General  Convention  then  sitting  in  Boston,  or 
from  forming  any  favorable  opinion  of  its  proceedings:  "There 


330  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

is  nothing  for  them  to  do,  and  they  are  trying  hard  to  make 
something  by  bringing  up  all  kinds  of  ridiculous  proposi- 
tions. I  was  glad  once  more  to  sign  the  petition  about  the 
Baptismal  service.  It  reminded  me  of  good  old  times,  and  I 
hope  we  shall  have  it  triannually  as  long  as  this  church  stands. 
It  never  will  be  granted  of  course."  In  November  he  went  to 
the  Church  Congress  in  New  York  and  after  coming  back  to 
Boston  he  wrote  to  his  brother: 

"November  7,  1877.  I  was  all  the  better  for  it,  and  am 
now  quite  well.  Is  n't  it  good  to  have  these  show  occasions 
done  with  and  settle  down  into  the  steady  pull  of  Parish  Life. 
Last  Sunday  seemed  a  blessed  relief.  There  was  nobody  to  be 
civil  to  in  the  Vestry  Room,  and  you  could  read  the  service  your- 
self ind  preach  the  Gospel  which  had  been  bottled  up  all  the 
time ,  Now  there  is  a  clear  field  for  the  winter  and  I  don't  mean 
to  hive  anybody  preach  for  me,  except  when  you  come,  before 
next  year.  ...  I  have  father  staying  with  me  for  a  day  or  two. 
He  ;ame  down  to  vote  and  to  attend  the  Historical  Society 
to-morrow.  He  seems  capitally  well  and  goes  out  prowling 
around  the  town  in  his  old  fashion,  as  if  Marlborough  Street 
were  quite  as  good  a  place  as  Hancock  Street  to  start  from.  .  .  . 

"  Have  you  read  the  new '  Life  of  Sumner? '  I  have  finished  one 
volume  of  it  and  found  it  interesting.  The  wonderful  reception 
that  he  had  in  England  and  the  sight  of  the  boyhood  of  these  men 
who  are  either  gone,  or  are  old  men  now,  are  very  attractive. 
Then  I  have  been  reading  Bowen's  new  book  [History  of  Phi- 
losophy]. I  had  forgotten  what  a  queer,  familiar,  almost  jocose 
style  he  has,  but  his  expositions  of  the  systems  of  philosophy  are 
certainly  very  clear,  though  one  doubts  sometimes  whether  he 
has  got  to  the  bottom  of  them." 

He  wrote  to  Mr.  Cooper,  who  had  invited  him  for  the  tenth 
anniversary  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles,  Philadelphia: 
"Of  course  I  '11  come.  Do  you  think  I  would  let  the  friends 
of  the  Holy  Apostles  gather  and  I  not  be  there?"  He  struck 
the  usual  keynote  for  his  birthday,  December  13,  1878:  "It 
seems  as  if  everything  out  of  the  old  times  were  altered 
so  and  things  whirl  on  so  fast  now,  sickness  and  health,  trouble 
and  pleasure  chasing  each  other  quickly.  The  quiet,  smooth, 
unbroken  life  is  all  gone.  This  is  not  perhaps  less  happy,  but 
'the  time  is  short'  seems  to  ring  out  of  everything.  And  then 
again  the  whole  of  things  seems  of  so  much  more  consequence 
and  the  details  of  things  of  so  much  less  than  they  used  to.  I  won- 
der if  everybody  gets  to  feel  so.  I  was  forty-two  last  Thursday." 


PARISH  MINISTRY  331 

The  work  in  his  parish  in  the  year  1878  went  on  as  usual.  The 
Lenten  services  grew  deeper  in  their  interest  and  power.  He 
asked  the  Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church  for  permission  to  hold 
free  evening  services  during  Lent,  and  the  request  was  granted 
unanimously  without  limit  of  time.  On  these  occasions  the  great 
church  was  filled.  His  references  to  the  season  of  Lent  in  his 
letters  must  be  interpreted  as  meaning  that  he  put  his  whole  soul 
into  the  frequent  services,  but  did  not  care  that  any  one  should 
know  with  what  deep  feeling  and  laborious  study  he  prepared 
himself  for  the  penitential  season.  His  epistolary  references  are 
in  contrast  with  the  note-books,  where  the  earnestness  of  his 
mood  is  stamped  upon  every  page.  He  took  up  large  subjects, 
in  courses  of  addresses  which  called  for  thorough  and  compre- 
hensive study.  In  his  Sunday  preaching  the  sermons  followed 
each  other  on  the  same  high  level.  He  did  not  write  many  let- 
ters, and  these  inclined  to  brevity.  Of  a  visit  from  Dr.  Mitchell 
in  February  he  says:  "Weir  Mitchell  has  been  here  curing  all 
the  dilapidated  Bostonians.  His  coming  makes  a  great  sensa- 
tion, for  he  is  a  very  famous  man.  I  felt  as  though  I  were  a  nerve 
doctor  myself  with  all  the  patients  that  swarmed  about  the 
house."  He  was  taking  an  interest  in  little  things,  such  as  the 
furnishing  of  his  house,  at  a  time  when  antique  colonial  furniture 
was  the  fashion.  Of  a  clock  which  he  secured  in  Philadelphia  he 
writes : 

"The  clock  and  the  corner  cupboard  came  safely  and  are  both 
up  and  running  most  satisfactorily.  I  know  what  time  it  is  and 
what  day  of  the  month  and  of  the  week  and  of  the  moon.  If  it 
only  gave  the  Golden  Letter  and  the  Dominical  Number  and  the 
First  and  Second  Lessons  I  should  feel  entirely  set  up." 

In  June  he  was  present  at  the  centennial  of  Phillips  Academy, 
Andover,  of  which  his  great-grandfather  was  the  founder,  and 
to  Arthur  Brooks  he  writes,  June  10,  1878: 

"Yes,  we  did  have  a  good  time.  I  do  not  know  when  I  have 
seen  a  big  display  go  off  so  well  throughout,  and  we  were  a  sort  of 
quiet  centre  to  the  whole  thing,  we  Phillipses,  around  which  it 
all  revolved.  We  had  the  glory  and  they  had  the  work;  and 
that  is  always  fun.  ...  It  is  not  often  now  that  all  four  of  us 
boys  get  together  in  one  room  as  we  did  here  in  my  study  the 
other  night.  So  let  us  be  proud  and  happy  for  the  way  the  whole 
thing  was  done,  and  hope  for  another  occasion  soon.  .  .  ." 


332  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

He  went  soon  after  this  event  to  Virginia,  where  he  read  an 
essay  on  "The  Pulpit  and  Popular  Skepticism."  Of  this  last 
visit  he  writes,  July  9,  1878: 

"We  visited  the  old  Seminary  where  I  read  an  Essay  to  the 
Alumni,  and  got  quite  sentimental  about  old  times.  The  old 
place  seemed  to  be  full  of  life  and  turned  out  a  good  many  parsons 
of  the  peculiar  Virginia  kind,  which  is  n't  a  bad  sort,  though  one 
would  n't  want  a  whole  church  made  up  of  them.  Then  we  went 
down  to  the  Virginia  Springs  in  the  Blue  Ridge,  where  we  passed 
three  very  queer  and  pleasant  days,  taking  much  sulphur  both 
inside  and  out.  Meantime  the  heat  had  grown  to  be  something 
awful  in  those  Northern  parts,  but  down  where  we  were  every- 
thing was  as  cool  and  delightful  as  possible." 

He  took  a  house  at  Hingham  for  the  summer,  going  to  Boston 
every  Sunday  to  preach.  Of  the  life  at  Hingham  he  writes  to 
Mr.  Cooper: 

"August  3,  1878.  I  never  had  such  a  profoundly  quiet  sum- 
mer as  I  am  having  now.  I  am  here  in  a  queer  little  cottage  on 
an  obscure  back  bay  of  Boston  Harbor,  where  there  is  nothing  to 
do,  or  at  least  where  I  do  nothing,  no  sailing,  no  fishing,  no  rid- 
ing, no  walking.  Nothing  in  the  world  but  plenty  of  books  and 
time  and  tobacco.  Nobody  to  talk  to  or  to  talk  to  me.  And  I 
like  it  first-rate,  almost  as  well  as  Heiligenblut  and  Bad  Gastein. 
But  it  is  very  different. 

"The  only  thing  I  really  do  which  I  can  put  my  finger  on  is  to 
prepare  my  volume  of  sermons  which  is  coming  out  in  September. 
Every  day  some  proof  comes  down  which  I  have  to  correct  and 
send  back.  I  doubt  if  they  are  worth  publishing,  and  I  have  had 
a  hundred  minds  about  going  on  or  stopping  them,  but  I  am  in 
for  it  now,  and  will  send  you  a  copy  when  they  come  out.  .  .  ." 

In  his  seclusion  at  Hingham,  he  wrote  often  to  his  brother 
Arthur,  in  Europe,  following  his  movements  with  the  sympathy 
of  an  old  traveller: 

"August  16,  1878.  I  am  sure  you  will  have  a  delightful  sum- 
mer, and  we  shall  follow  you  through  it  all  with  our  good  wishes. 
It  is  about  the  pleasantest  thing  that  people  can  do  in  this  fallen 
world. 

"  I  don't  think  the  Pan-Anglican  troubled  you  much,  and  from 
all  accounts  it  won't  trouble  anybody  a  great  deal.  I  don't  hear 
of  anything  said  or  done  there  which  was  of  the  slightest  con- 
sequence. And  it  gets  to  be  very  funny  when  in  General 
Conventions  and  Pan  Synods  and  all  sorts  of  Assemblies  of  Eccle- 
siastical people  the  one  thing  they  can  crow  over  when  the  meet- 


PARISH  MINISTRY  333 

ing  breaks  up  is  the  '  perfect  harmony'  of  it  all, — as  if  it  is  a  wonder 
to  sing  a  Te  Deum  over,  if  Churchmen  come  together  without 
pulling  each  other's  wigs  off  and  tearing  each  other's  eyes  out.  .  .  . 
Ben  Butler  is  going  to  try  to  be  Governor  of  Massachusetts 
this  fall,  and  that  will  keep  things  lively  here.  There  has  been  a 
blackguard  named  Kearney  about  here  preaching  low  Irish  Com- 
munism, whom  Butler  has  taken  up,  and  made  an  ugly  mess. 
But  what  do  you  care  for  American  politics  when  you  are  looking 
at  the  Madonna  di  San  Sisto." 

The  dread  of  an  impending  sorrow  was  hanging  over  Mr. 
Brooks  through  the  summer  in  consequence  of  the  illness  of  his 
father.  He  invited  both  his  parents  to  Hingham,  but,  as  the 
change  was  not  beneficial,  they  soon  returned  to  Andover. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  thoughtfulness  and  tender  devotion 
which  he  showed  in  the  now  changed  relationship, — when  instead 
of  the  father  watching  over  the  son  with  anxious  affection,  it  was 
his  privilege  to  care  for  both  father  and  mother.  He  en- 
quired for  the  best  medical  skill,  in  the  hope  that  it  might  be  of 
avail.  He  wrote  often  to  his  mother  to  encourage  her;  he  sent 
everything  that  his  ingenious  thoughtfulness  could  devise  which 
would  cheer  or  help  the  invalid  in  his  weakness. 

The  summer  passed,  and  September  brought  an  event  of 
the  highest  interest  to  Mr.  Brooks  as  well  as  to  people  through- 
out the  country, — the  visit  of  Dean  Stanley  to  America.  No 
Englishman  ever  came  whose  presence  called  forth  more  enthu- 
siasm, nor  did  any  one  realize  until  he  came  how  deep  and  wide- 
spread was  the  feeling  which  prompted  the  people  out  of  pure 
gratitude  to  express  their  sense  of  indebtedness  in  every  form 
which  could  do  him  honor.  It  was  one  of  the  important  days 
in  the  history  of  Trinity  Church  when,  on  Sunday,  the  2 2d  of 
September,  he  stood  in  its  pulpit,  and,  with  his  keen  perception 
of  the  romance  of  history  and  the  picturesque  quality  inhering 
in  representative  occasions,  treated  the  moment  as  a  meeting 
of  the  East  with  the  West.  The  sermon  which  he  preached 
was  afterward  printed,  and  the  manuscript  given  to  Mr.  Brooks, 
who  preserved  it  among  the  things  that  he  valued. 

The  year  as  it  came  to  an  end  found  him  in  the  midst  of  many 
occupations,  of  which  the  most  laborious  was  the  preparation 
of  the  Bohlen  Lectures,  to  be  given  in  Philadelphia.  But  he 
made  time  for  loving  attentions  to  his  father,  the  thought  of 


334  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

whom  was  uppermost  in  his  mind.     And  he  found  writing  the 

Lectures  difficult;  "They  are  a  fearful  invasion  of  the  legitimate 

and  regular  work  of  the  ministry,  and  the  longer  I  am  a  Parson 

the  less  I  think  I  like  special  work,  the  more  I  like  to  keep  down 

to  the  steady  humdrum  of  the  Parish  Mill." 

The  experience  he  had  long  been  dreading,  whose  import  to 

himself  he  had  been  sounding  in  advance,  came  on  January  7, 

1879.     These  extracts  from  letters  that  follow  call  for  no  comment 

as  he  speaks  of  his  father,  and  tells  the  story  in  its  simple  and 

natural  pathos. 

"Boston,  January  11,  1879. 

"Dear  old  Cooper, — You  are  a  good  kind  fellow  to  write  to 
me  about  Father  and  to  speak  of  him  so  kindly.  He  was  one  of 
the  simplest,  truest,  healthiest,  and  happiest  natures  that  God 
ever  made.  All  his  life  long  was  a  perpetual  delight  in  common 
things  and  a  quiet,  faithful  doing  of  the  duties  that  some  men 
make  a  fuss  about,  as  if  they  were  the  most  natural  things  in  the 
world  and  everybody  did  them.  His  religion  was  as  simple  as  all 
the  rest  of  his  life,  always  flowing  on  serenely,  as  if  to  be  a  reli- 
gious man  and  to  love  God  and  trust  Him  were  not  an  exceptional 
and  hard  thing,  but  as  true  a  part  of  human  life  as  breathing. 
And  at  the  last  he  grew  simpler  and  sweeter  as  his  strength  faded 
away,  and  died  at  last  with  calm  dignity  such  as  only  a  child  or 
a  strong  man  can  have.  But  we  shall  miss  him  dreadfully. 
Life  will  never  be  again  what  it  has  been  all  these  years  with  him 
behind  us.  And  poor  mother  wanders  about  looking  for  some 
one  to  be  anxious  about  and  to  take  care  of,  and  finding  it  a 
dreadful  pain  that  her  last  anxiety  is  over,  and  that  she  has  only 
to  rest  in  peace  till  her  happiness  comes. 

"Yes,  I  shall  come  in  February  and  lecture.  The  lectures  are 
poor  enough  for  they  were  written  in  the  midst  of  all  this  derange- 
ment and  distress,  but  I  shall  fulfil  my  engagement." 

To  another  friend  he  writes: 

"175  Marlborough  Street,  Boston,  January  18,  1879. 

"  I  have  been  feeling  all  these  last  ten  days  as  I  know  thousands 
of  men  have  felt  before  me  when  their  fathers  have  died,  but 
feeling  it  just  as  freshly  as  if  I  were  the  first  man  that  ever  went 
through  it,  and  with  the  strong  belief  that  no  father  ever  was  to 
his  boys  just  what  ours  has  been  to  us.  He  was  so  bright  and 
happy  and  simple  and  strong  through  all  the  long  years  while  our 
lives  revolved  around  his,  and  in  these  last  years  while  he  has 
been  failing  and  we  have  had  the  privilege  that  we  could  do 
something  for  him,  he  has  been  so  sweet  and  gentle  and  childlike 
and  so  full  of  happiness  in  his  constantly  narrowing  life.  And 
at  last  he  lay  down  and  died  with  the  same  quiet  dignity  with 


DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER  335 

which  he  had  lived.  There  is  nothing  that  is  not  good  to  remem- 
ber. It  was  as  healthy  and  true  a  life  as  ever  was  seen,  and  now 
I  miss  him  as  I  never  dreamed  that  I  could  miss  anybody,  and  it 
will  be  so  to  the  end,  I  know.  You  knew  him  a  little.  He  always 
felt  that  my  friends  were  his  friends,  and  so  he  always  talked  of 
you  as  if  he  knew  you  well.  I  know  that  he  would  have  been 
glad  to  think  that  even  so  far  away,  and  with  so  slight  a  recollec- 
tion of  him,  you  would  care  something  for  his  death.  .  .  . 

"I  am  glad  that  you  welcomed  Casaubon.  He  was  selected 
with  a  little  more  discrimination  than  usual,  for  I  had  just  been 
reading  his  life  myself,  and  had  been  charmed  not  so  much  with 
him  as  with  the  Book.  ...  I  have  been  lame  all  winter 
with  a  queer  weakness  of  the  knee,  which  the  Doctor  don't  seem 
to  understand.  It  probably  is  rebelling  at  the  amount  it  has 
to  carry.     But  it  is  about  well  now." 

At  the  first  meeting  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society 
held  after  the  death  of  their  colleague,  words  of  appreciation 
were  spoken  by  the  President,  Hon.  R.  C.  Winthrop,  and  others 
testifying  to  the  value  of  his  work  as  a  member  of  the  society. 
The  qualities  attributed  to  the  father  reappeared  in  the  son,  with 
this  difference  only,  that  the  father  had  filled  no  exalted  position. 
But  there  was  a  higher  tribute  to  be  paid.  Such  had  been 
the  earthly  relationship  that  to  the  son  it  bore  witness  to  the 
nature  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  In  the  year  before  his  father 
died,  speaking  to  the  students  of  the  Yale  Divinity  School  on 
the  best  method  of  teaching  religion,  Phillips  Brooks  had  said: 
"For  myself,  every  year  that  I  have  preached,  that  sight,  the 
child  and  the  father  in  their  deepest  relationship  to  one  another, 
has  grown  an  ever  clearer  and  richer  revelation  of  the  mystery 
of  man  and  God."  While  his  bereavement  was  still  fresh,  he 
wrote  these  words  in  his  Bohlen  Lectures  on  "The  Influence  of 
Jesus": 

"  Beyond  all  analysis  lies  the  relation  which  every  true  son  holds 
to  a  true  father.  It  is  a  final  fact.  You  cannot  dissolve  it  in 
any  abstract  theory.  It  issues  from  the  mysterious  sympathy  of 
the  two  lives,  one  of  which  gave  birth  to  the  other.  It  has  rip- 
ened and  mellowed  through  all  the  rich  intercourse  of  dependent 
childhood  and  imitative  youth  and  sympathetic  manhood.  It  is 
an  eternal  fact.  Death  cannot  destroy  it.  The  grown-up  man 
feels  his  father's  life  beating  from  beyond  the  grave,  and  is  sure 
that  in  his  own  eternity  the  child  relation  to  that  life  will  be  in 
some  mysterious  and  perfect  way  resumed  and  glorified,  that  he 
will  be  something  to  that  dear  life  and  it  to  him  forever.     All 


336  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

this  remains.  .  .  .  The  joy  and  pain,  all  the  richness  and  pathos 
of  his  home  life,  while  they  keep  their  freshness  and  peculiar 
sanctity,  have  in  them  and  below  them  all  the  multitudinous  hap- 
piness and  sorrow  of  the  larger  life  in  the  great  household  of  the 
world.  The  child  feels  something  of  this  truth  by  instinct.  The 
thoughtful  man  delights  to  realize  it  more  and  more  as  he 
grows  older."     (Pp.  184,  185.) 

The  lectures  on  the  "Influence  of  Jesus"  were  delivered  in 

Philadelphia  in  February,  1879.     He  wrote  in  relation  to  them 

to  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar,  his  successor  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy 

Trinity: 

"  February  8,  1879. 

"  I  was  just  putting  the  last  words  to  the  last  page  as  your  letter 
came  in.  There  could  not  have  been  a  better  moment.  Yester- 
day it  would  have  seemed  like  a  mockery  to  talk  about  the 
delivery  of  what  looked  as  if  it  never  would  be  written.  And  now 
I  hate  to  think  that  I  must  ever  read  them  again,  and  especially 
that  I  must  read  them  to  anybody  whom  I  care  about.  .  .  .  But 
I  have  one  or  two  suggestions  to  make  which  are  serious. 

"1.  The  lectures  are  an  hour  long,  each  of  them.  Can  it  not  be 
arranged  that  there  shall  be  little  or  no  service? 

"2.  They  are  not  in  the  least  the  things  for  a  popular  audience. 
Not  that  they  are  learned,  but  they  are  quiet  and  dry.  I  want  to 
have  them  not  in  the  great  Church,  but  in  your  Lecture  Room 
which  will  make  it  much  easier  for  me  to  read  them.  I  think 
you  will  agree  with  me  in  this.  At  any  rate  I  wish  it  so,  and  I 
am  sure  you  will  oblige  me. 

"If  you  will  do  both  of  these  things  for  me  I  will  preach  all  day 
for  you  at  Holy  Trinity.  If  not,  I  will  see  you  at  Jericho  before 
I  open  my  mouth  in  the  afternoon. 

"And  then  I  want  you  to  let  me  make  a  very  quiet  visit  and  not 
go  out  to  dinner  anywhere  but  at  Cooper's.  I  don't  feel  up 
to  parties,  and  I  want  to  see  you.  Won't  you  say  so  to  any  kind 
people  who  want  to  arrange  dinners  and  breakfasts  before  I  come, 
or  who  desire  to  invite  me  when  I  am  there. 

"All  this  sounds  foolish,  but  the  fact  is  I  have  had  a  dreadful 
winter.  These  poor  lectures  have  been  worried  through  in  all 
the  distress  and  bewilderment  of  Father's  death.  I  haven't 
known  what  I  was  writing  half  the  time.  Now  I  want  to  have  a 
quiet,  restful  time,  and  I  shall  come  trusting  your  good  love  and 
tact  to  get  it  for  me.  .  .  ." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  great  church  was  thrown  open 
for  the  purpose,  and  not  the  lecture  room,  as  he  had  demanded. 
How  the  lectures  were  received,  and  how  he  appeared  as  he 
gave  them,  is  told  in  a  newspaper  paragraph  of  the  day. 


BOHLEN  LECTURES  337 

"Rev.  Phillips  Brooks  of  Boston  lectured  last  night  in  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  to  an  audience  that  filled  every  pew 
in  that  vast  church  and  left  scarcely  any  sitting  room  in  the 
galleries.  It  has  been  ten  years  since  he  left  his  pastorate  of 
that  church  to  take  charge  of  a  parish  in  Boston.  ...  A  tall, 
broad-shouldered  man,  with  a  perfectly  smooth,  open  face,  strong 
lines  about  the  mouth,  expressive  eyes  and  dark  hair,  was  the 
personnel  of  the  man  who  came  out  of  the  vestry  room  with  Mr. 
McVickar  last  evening  at  eight  o'clock,  and  after  the  singing  of 
a  hymn  and  the  delivery  of  a  brief  prayer  ascended  the  high 
pulpit  steps.  There  was  no  pause  for  preparation  after  he  got 
into  the  pulpit.  He  placed  the  manuscript  before  him  and  began 
the  lecture.  The  delivery  of  the  man  was  remarkable.  He  an- 
nounced the  title  and  introduction  in  words  that  came  so  rapidly 
that  it  required  the  most  concentrated  attention  to  keep  up  with 
him.  He  spoke  for  about  an  hour.  During  all  that  time  his 
tremendous  energy  of  delivery  kept  up  at  the  same  rapid  pace, 
reminding  one  of  a  torrent  rushing  over  rocks.  The  words  seemed 
not  to  flow  out  to  the  audience,  but  to  shoot  out.  The  ground  he 
got  over  in  an  hour  was  equal  to  that  of  three  ordinary  lectures. 
And  when  he  closed,  the  attention  of  the  audience  was  as  rapt 
as  ever.  Occasionally  there  would  be  a  stumbling  over  a  word. 
Then  his  head  would  jerk  to  this  side  and  that  impatiently,  as 
though  the  word  must  come,  despite  all  impediments.  He  kept 
his  eyes  on  the  paper  almost  continuously.  Probably  four  times, 
certainly  not  more  than  half  a  dozen,  he  gave  a  glance  out  towards 
the  audience.  He  seemed  to  lose  himself  entirely  in  his  subject. 
His  eyes  were  bent  on  the  manuscript,  his  whole  expression,  his 
features,  the  twitching  of  his  facial  muscles,  showed  the  tre- 
mendous concentration  of  energy  put  into  the  effort.  There 
was  an  absence  of  all  self-consciousness;  his  hearers  lost  sight  of 
the  man  and  only  saw  the  ideas,  rapid,  whirling,  and  tremendous 
in  their  force  of  utterance,  keeping  up  the  idea  of  the  torrent  all 
the  time." 

Any  attempts  to  save  him  from  the  invasion  of  his  friends  in 
Philadelphia  were  futile.  When  he  returned  to  Boston  he  wrote 
to  McVickar:  "I  counted  upon  this  visit,  after  this  sad  and  dreary 
winter,  more  than  ever  I  did  on  any  other,  and  it  has  been  to  me 
far  more  than  I  had  counted  on."  But  he  came  back  tired  and 
somewhat  dispirited.  "I  am  back  here,  and  it  's  snowing,  and 
I'm  lonely;  there's  work  to  be  done  and  it 's  doleful  generally." 

In  March  he  accepted  the  honor  of  an  election  to  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Society.  There  began  at  this  time  an  inter, 
esting  correspondence  with  M.  Nyegaard,  a  clergyman  of  the 


338  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Reformed  Church  in  France,  at  St.  Quentin  (Aisne),  who  had 
been  greatly  impressed  by  the  "Lectures  on  Preaching,"  and 
asked  for  permission  to  translate  them  into  French.  The  trans- 
lation was  published  in  1883.  Somewhat  later  the  "Lectures  on 
Preaching"  were  translated  into  Dutch.  There  came  an  invita- 
tion from  the  editor  of  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  who  explained  his 
purpose  by  saying  that  he  had  just  been  reading  the  sermon, 
already  referred  to,  on  "  The  Present  and  Future  Faith."  A 
series  of  articles  of  the  general  tendency  of  that  sermon  would  find 
their  best  audience  if  clothed  in  literary  form.  To  this  and 
other  invitations  of  a  similar  kind  he  gave  a  firm  refusal. 
He  speaks  of  Lent  as  going  on  most  pleasantly:  "I  have  no 
impatience  for  it  to  be  over."  He  was  then  preaching  as 
usual  in  many  places,  three  times  on  Sunday,  and  often  during 
the  week.  Easter  week  he  spent  in  New  York.  He  was  at  New 
Haven  in  April  to  lecture  again  before  the  students  of  the 
Divinity  School.  He  seemed  to  be  doing  the  work  of  an  evange- 
list, preaching  in  various  towns  in  churches  of  his  own  denomina- 
tion, but  almost  as  often  in  churches  of  other  names.  There 
were  certain  Congregational  churches  where  it  seemed  to  be  a 
settled  arrangement  that  he  should  appear  once  at  least  every 
year. 

At  the  annual  convention  of  the  Episcopal  Church  in  Massa- 
chusetts, which  met  at  St.  Paul's  Church,  Boston,  May  14,  Phil- 
lips Brooks  was  the  preacher.  The  words  of  his  text  were  the 
commission  of  Christ  to  His  disciples,  "As  my  Father  hath  sent 
me,  even  so  send  I  you."  He  dwelt  on  the  purpose  for  which 
Christ  had  been  sent  by  the  Father  and  in  turn  had  commissioned 
His  disciples.  The  sermon  was  one  for  the  times,  cutting  athwart 
current  ecclesiastical  tendencies.  From  the  characteristic  words 
of  Christ,  four  passages  were  selected  as  heads  for  the  divisions 
of  the  sermon : 

/  am  not  come  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance:  I  am 
not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil;  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the 
Father;  He  that  is  not  against  us  is  with  us. 

"We  are  too  apt  to  speak  in  church  to  artificial  sins  which  the 
great  universal  human  conscience  does  not  recognize,  to  rebuke 
the  improprieties  that  are  not  wrong,  and  to  denounce  the  honest 
errors  which  good  men  may  hold  and  yet  be  good,  as  if  they  were 
the  first  enemies  with  which  we  and  our  Gospel  had  to  fight.  .  .  . 


CONVENTION  SERMON  339 

All  earnest  life  which  has  not  reached  clear  religious  faith,  all 
doubt,  however  radical,  which  at  its  heart  is  truthful  and  not 
scornful,  all  eager  study  of  the  marvellous  world  of  nature  as  if 
the  final  facts  of  our  existence  must  be  somehow  hidden  in  her 
bosom,  all  glorifying  of  humanity,  as  if  it  were  an  object  for  our 
worship,  all  struggle  to  develop  society  as  if  by  its  own  self-puri- 
fication earth  could  be  turned  into  heaven, — all  this  is  to  the 
Church  to-day  what  Judaism  was  to  Christ,  what  He  came  not  to 
destroy  but  to  fulfil.  .  .  .  The  Christian  Church  has  made  and 
makes  to-day  too  much  of  settled  views  of  truth  which  may  be 
dead,  too  little  of  the  search  for  truth  which  must  be  living.  One 
trembles  when  he  sees  the  Church  in  any  way  separating  itself 
from  the  pure  instincts  and  from  the  earnest  thought  of  men,  and 
counting  itself  the  enemy  to  destroy  them  instead  of  the  mission- 
ary to  enlighten  them. 

"He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.  There  are  meanings 
in  these  words  that  can  never  be  true  of  any  other  beside  Him, 
not  even  of  the  Church  which  is  to  perpetuate  His  mission  in  the 
world.  But  if  they  declare  what  was  the  great  truth  of  the  Incar- 
nation,— that  a  perfectly  pure  obedient  humanity  might  utter 
divinity,  might  be  the  transparent  medium  through  which  even 
God  might  show  Himself, — then  is  there  not  an  everlasting  sense 
in  which  the  words  of  Jesus  may  become  the  words  of  the  Church 
and  the  declaration  of  its  highest  privilege?  .  .  .  When  one  feels 
this,  he  earnestly  deprecates,  he  deeply  dreads  the  'clericalism' 
to  which  the  Church  is  always  tending.  It  is  not  by  the  truth 
the  clergy  teach,  it  is  by  the  lives  the  Christian  people  live,  that 
the  Church  must  be  the  witness  of  the  Father." 

He  was  preaching  often  at  this  time  in  Appleton  Chapel, 
Cambridge,  before  the  students  of  the  University.  One  of  the 
sermons  which  he  delivered  in  May,  1879,  exhibited  his  power  in 
extraordinary  manner, — a  sermon  to  the  young  from  the  text, 
"Thou  .  .  .  makest  me  to  possess  the  iniquities  of  my  youth." 
Some  special  circumstance  had  roused  him  to  write  it.  His  sub- 
ject was  the  unity  of  life,  the  continuousness  of  all  its  experiences. 
There  was  no  lurid  picture  of  endless  torment  to  alarm  his  hearers, 
but  even  Jonathan  Edwards,  in  his  most  terrific  discourses,  could 
never  have  produced  a  more  intense  or  fearful  impression.  The 
sermon  was  consistent  throughout, — the  dark  side  of  life  under 
the  consciousness  of  sin.  This  is  a  passage  which  may  serve  to 
illustrate  its  purpose,  but  no  extract  can  represent  its  power: 

"It  is  when  some  great  trouble  comes  to  you,  the  death  of  your 
friend,  the  failure  of  your  business,  the  prospect  of  your  own 


34o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

death,  then  it  is  you  are  dismayed  to  find  that  under  the  changed 
habits  of  your  life  you  are  the  same  man  still,  and  that  the  sins 
of  your  college  days  are  in  you  even  now.  This  is  what  makes 
men  dread  any  great  event  in  life  so  strangely.  It  brings  back 
the  past  which  they  want  to  forget,  or  rather  it  compels  them  to 
see  that  the  past  is  still  there  in  the  present.  It  is  when  you  fire 
a  cannon  over  the  pond  that  the  dead  body  which  is  sunk  there 
rises." 

It  was  not  invective  which  marked  the  sermon,  but  throughout 
rigorous  dissection  of  the  conscience,  and  a  penetration  of  expe- 
riences unspoken.  It  ended  with  this  sentence:  "I  know  that 
there  are  words  of  comfort  which  I  have  not  turned  aside  to  speak 
to-day."  He  was  asked  to  include  the  sermon  in  his  printed  vol- 
umes, but  he  declined.  It  might  do,  he  replied,  to  preach  such  a 
sermon  occasionally,  when  judgment  without  mercy  was  the 
theme,  but  he  would  not  give  it  a  place  in  the  open  record. 

To  a  clergyman  who  had  asked  him  to  make  an  address,  he 
wrote : 

"I  will  be  with  you  on  the  evening  of  the  17th.  Please  state 
the  subject  on  which  you  wish  me  to  speak,  as  you  think  best, 
only  don't  say  anything  in  it  about  'workingmen.'  I  like  work- 
ingmen  very  much  and  care  for  their  good,  but  I  have  nothing 
distinct  or  separate  to  say  to  them  about  religion,  nor  do  I  see 
how  it  will  do  any  good  to  treat  them  as  a  separate  class  in  this 
matter,  in  which  their  needs  and  duties  are  just  like  other  men's." 

In  declining  an  invitation  to  the  annual  New  England  dinner 
in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  commemorating  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims 
at  Plymouth  on  December  22,  1620,  he  wrote: 

"It  will  be  quite  impossible  for  me  to  come.  The  fact  is  that 
Christmas  and  these  Puritans  interfere  with  one  another  now 
just  as  much  as  they  ever  did.  I  believe  that  they  landed  just 
before  Christmas  on  purpose,  so  that  the  celebration  of  their  land- 
ing might  forever  interfere  with  the  preparation  of  Christmas 
trees  and  Christmas  sermons.  So  I  can't  come.  I  'd  rather 
like  to,  all  but  the  having  to  speak.     That  spoils  a  dinner." 

To  a  friend  he  wrote  in  the  Advent  season,  commending  books 
which  he  had  read,  and  giving  his  view  of  the  Second  Advent : 

"If  you  ever  come  across  either  of  the  two  books  which  I  have 
just  been  reading,  I  am  sure  that  you  will  like  it.  One  is  the 
Life  0}  Thomas  Erskine  of  Linlathen,  and  the  other  is  the  Life 


DEATH  OF  HIS  MOTHER  341 

of  Bishop  Ewing  of  Argyle  and  the  Isles.  The  first  is  rather  a 
rare  book  and  and  a  little  hard  to  get ;  the  other  you  may  find. 
Both  of  them  were  noble  Christian  men  of  the  best  type,  fair  and 
true,  'without  partiality  and  without  hypocrisy,'  Broad  Church- 
men of  the  noblest  sort.  Every  now  and  then  we  get  a  glimpse 
in  the  lives  of  such  men  of  what  Christianity  yet  has  to  do  for  the 
individual  and  for  the  race  before  its  work  shall  be  complete.  I 
think  I  grow  to  have  more  and  more  tolerance  for  every  kind  of 
Christian  except  one,  and  he  is  the  Christian  who  thinks  that  his 
Christian  faith  is  done,  that  there  is  nothing  greater  for  it  to  do 
than  it  has  done  already.  He  does  not  believe  in  the  Second 
Advent,  which  is  a  true  doctrine  of  the  Gospel, — not  a  fantastic 
idea  of  a  new  incarnation  and  of  a  visible  Christ  in  Palestine,  but 
a  power  of  Christ  over  the  destinies  and  institutions  and  hearts 
of  men  more  real  and  spiritual  than  any  that  any  age  has  seen 
yet." 

In  sending  his  thanks  for  a  Christmas  present  of  Clifford's 
writings  he  says: 

"December  23,  1879.  I  have  wanted  to  see  Clifford,  heathen 
though  he  be,  for  he  is  about  the  best  specimen  apparently  of 
these  men  who  are  telling  us  that  we  have  no  souls,  and  that  there 
is  no  God.  They  must  pass  away  some  time  if  anything  that  we 
believe  is  true.  But  they  will  surely  leave  some  mark  upon  the 
Faith  which  they  so  patiently  and  ingeniously  try  to  murder,  and 
which  will  outlive  them  all.  There  is  something  almost  pictur- 
esquely like  our  muddled  time  in  Clifford  being  made  a  Christmas 
present  of.     I  accept  the  omen." 

There  are  some  letters  written  in  a  hurried,  anxious  tone  from 
Phillips  Brooks  to  his  brothers  Arthur  and  John,  in  the  early 
weeks  of  1880,  speaking  of  the  illness  of  their  mother.  On  the 
1st  of  February  she  died,  at  the  age  of  seventy- two.  To  the  let- 
ters of  condolence  which  he  received  from  his  friends  he  replied, 
but  not  with  the  same  freedom  from  reserve  as  when  he  spoke  of 
the  loss  of  his  father.  His  grief  went  deeper.  A  gentleness  and 
softness  of  manner  came  over  him,  the  tenderness  which  can  find 
its  best  expression  not  in  words,  but  in  the  features.  He  went 
heavily,  as  one  that  mourneth  for  his  mother. 

To  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell  he  wrote: 

"My  mother  has  been  the  centre  of  all  the  happiness  of  my  life. 
Thank  God  she  is  not  less  my  pride  and  treasure  now." 


342  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

To  Mr.  Cooper: 

"  I  did  not  know  I  could  ever  be  so  much  like  a  child  again,  but 
to-night  the  world  seems  very  desolate  and  lonely.  All  my  life 
I  have  feared  and  dreaded  what  has  come  this  week.  And  now 
that  she  is  with  God,  I  seem  to  know  for  the  first  time  how  pure 
and  true  and  self-sacrificing  all  her  earthly  life  has  been.  Surely 
with  all  these  that  have  gone  before  it  will  not  be  hard  to  go  to 
Him  when  our  time  comes." 

To  another  friend: 

"The  happiest  part  of  my  happy  life  has  been  my  mother,  and 
with  God's  help  she  will  be  more  to  me  than  ever.  The  sense  of 
God  and  his  love  has  grown  ever  clearer  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
sadness  and  bereavement." 

To  his  brother  Arthur : 

"And  so  the  new  chapter  of  life  has  begun,  and  the  Brooks 
Boys  have  got  to  stand  together  as  long  as  they  are  left.  Well,  we 
have  done  it  pretty  well  so  far,  and  I  guess  we  shall  do  it  to  the 
end.  May  we  all  get  through  with  the  faithfulness  and  simpli- 
city with  which  Father  and  Mother  have  finished  their  course." 

We  must  dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks. 
Her  strength  lay  in  the  depth  and  power  of  her  emotional  nature. 
She  lavished  on  her  family  an  untold  wealth  of  affection,  reveal- 
ing it  in  little  ways  that  are  pathetic.  She  concentrated  her  en- 
ergies on  one  single  purpose, — the  care  of  her  family,  first  its 
religious  and  then  its  secular  welfare.  She  never  accepted  an 
invitation  from  home  for  any  social  function  until  the  youngest 
child  was  grown  up  and  no  longer  needed  her  care.  To  this  end 
everything  was  sacrificed, — the  welfare  of  her  children.  Phil- 
lips Brooks  recalled  the  familiar  domestic  scene,  when  he  wrote 
from  Germany  during  his  visit  to  Europe: 

"My  dearest  Mother, — You  cannot  think  how  strange  it 
seems  to  be  writing  in  this  little  German  inn,  and  knowing  that 
you  will  read  it  in  the  old  back  parlor  at  home,  where  you  have 
read  my  letters  from  Cambridge,  Alexandria,  and  Philadelphia. 
Johnnie  will  bring  it  up  from  the  post  office  some  night,  and  Trip 
will  break  out  into  one  of  his  horrible  concerts  two  or  three  times 


DEATH  OF  HIS  MOTHER  343 

while  you  are  reading  it.  Then  as  soon  as  it  is  over,  father  will 
get  out  his  big  candle  and  you  will  put  up  the  stockings,  and  all 
go  up  the  old  stairway  to  the  old  chambers,  and  to  bed.  Well, 
good-night  and  pleasant  dreams  to  you  all,  and  don't  forget  that 
I  am  off  here  wandering  up  and  down  these  old  countries  and 
thinking  ever  so  much  about  you." 

She  was  religious,  but  the  instincts  of  motherhood  predomi- 
nated, nor  did  they  relax  with  the  years.  Even  after  the  boys 
had  grown  into  men  she  still  felt  called  upon  to  exercise  her  sway. 
Once  when  Phillips  and  Frederick  were  on  a  home  visit,  the  one 
rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Philadelphia,  and 
the  other  rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church  in  Cleveland,  she  is  recalled 
as  putting  her  head  into  the  doorway  of  the  room  from  which  the 
noise  proceeded,  saying,  "Boys,  remember  it  is  Sunday." 

She  understood  the  nature  of  boys.  To  a  young  mother  who 
came  to  her  for  advice,  she  admitted  she  could  say  something 
about  the  management  of  sons.  This  was  the  substance  of  her 
counsel : 

"There  is  an  age  when  it  is  not  well  to  follow  or  question  your 
boy  too  closely.  Up  to  that  time  you  may  carefully  instruct  and 
direct  him ;  you  are  his  best  friend ;  he  is  never  happy  unless  the 
stbry  of  the  day  has  been  told ;  you  must  hear  about  his  friends, 
his  school ;  all  that  interests  him  must  be  your  interest.  Suddenly 
these  confidences  cease;  the  affectionate  son  becomes  reserved 
and  silent,  he  seeks  the  intimate  friendship  of  other  lads,  he  goes 
out,  he  is  averse  to  telling  where  he  is  going  or  how  long  he  will  be 
gone.  He  comes  in  and  goes  silently  to  his  room.  All  this  is  a 
startling  change  to  the  mother,  but  it  is  also  her  opportunity  to 
practise  wisdom  by  loving,  and  praying  for,  and  absolutely  trust- 
ing her  son.  The  faithful  instruction  and  careful  training  during 
his  early  years  the  son  can  never  forget;  that  is  impossible. 
Therefore  trust  not  only  your  heavenly  Father,  but  your  son. 
The  period  of  which  I  speak  appears  to  me  to  be  one  in  which  the 
boy  dies  and  the  man  is  born;  his  individuality  rises  up  before 
him,  and  he  is  dazed  and  almost  overwhelmed  by  his  first  con- 
sciousness of  himself.  I  have  always  believed  that  it  was  then 
that  the  Creator  was  speaking  with  my  sons,  and  that  it  was  good 
for  their  souls  to  be  left  alone  with  Him,  while  I,  their  mother, 
stood  trembling,  praying,  and  waiting,  knowing  that  when  the 
man  was  developed  from  the  boy  I  should  have  my  sons  again, 
and  there  would  be  a  deeper  sympathy  than  ever  between  us." 

Phillips  Brooks  resembled  in  appearance  his  mother  more  than 


344  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

his  father.  The  contour  of  the  head,  the  large  dark  eyes,  the 
form  of  the  nose,  something  also  in  the  poise  and  the  carriage  of 
the  head,  are  those  of  his  mother.  But  the  large  stature  seems 
to  be  a  remoter  inheritance.  The  indebtedness  of  Phillips  Brooks 
to  his  mother  in  the  line  of  a  rich  heritage  is  perhaps  the  greater, 
yet  what  he  owed  to  his  father  is  of  such  importance  that  without 
it  he  would  not  have  been  the  man  he  was.  Some  of  his  higher 
intellectual  tastes  or  habits,  his  love  of  historical  studies,  his  taste 
for  architecture,  his  accuracy,  his  interest  in  minute  details,  his 
literary  sense,  and  his  sober  judgments  of  men  and  things, — 
these  are  traits  which  his  father  possessed.  They  had  also  a  com- 
mon trait  in  the  love  of  relics.  The  father  had  the  constant  play 
of  humor  without  which  the  highest  results  in  character  and 
achievement  are  impossible,  and  these  the  son  possessed  in  larger 
measure.  Phillips  Brooks's  almost  invariable  mood  outside  of 
the  pulpit  was  one  in  which  his  humor  played  with  all  the  changes 
and  chances  of  life.  The  strict  integrity,  the  uprightness  of  the 
perfect  man,  who  could  be  trusted  in  all  circumstances  to  do  what 
was  right  and  fitting,  was  an  invaluable  paternal  legacy.  Of  the 
father,  the  truest  words  that  his  sons  could  speak  were  these, 
"The  righteous  shall  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance." 

In  Phillips  Brooks  the  power  of  observation,  which  constitutes 
the  basis  of  the  imaginative  faculty,  was  fused  with  the  vast 
power  of  feeling  which  came  from  his  mother.  She  had  the  spirit 
of  the  reformer,  who  is  born  to  set  the  world  right  and  cannot 
contemplate  with  serenity  the  world  as  it  is.  She  hungered 
and  thirsted  for  the  righteousness  whose  coming  is  so  slow.  So 
strong  was  her  will,  so  intense  her  nature,  that  she  grew  impa- 
tient with  the  obstacles  in  the  way.  Phillips  Brooks  knew  the 
facts  of  life  with  his  father's  eyes,  and  the  hopes  and  possibilities 
of  life  through  the  eyes  of  his  mother.  Had  he  received  by  trans- 
mission only  the  outlook  of  his  father  without  the  inspired  hero- 
ism of  his  mother,  he  would  not  have  risen  to  greatness.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  he  inherited  from  his  mother  alone,  he 
might  have  been  known  as  an  ardent  reformer,  not  wholly  unlike 
his  distinguished  kinsman  Wendell  Phillips, — a  type  familiar  in 
New  England;  but  the  wonderful  fascination  of  his  power  for 
men  of  every  class  and  degree,  the  universal  appeal  to  a  common 
humanity,  would  have  been  wanting.     In  his  Philadelphia  min- 


DEATH  OF  HIS  MOTHER  345 

istry  he  almost  identified  the  pulpit  with  the  cause  of  social 
reforms.  When  he  came  to  Boston  he  must  have  reached  the 
determination  to  confine  himself  to  preaching.  There  was  dan- 
ger of  life  passing  away  while  one  was  getting  ready  to  live. 
Some  said:  "Remove  first  the  obstacles  which  stand  in  the  way 
of  human  progress,  and  then  men  will  be  able  to  live."  He  said : 
"The  world,  humanity,  has  already  been  redeemed  by  Christ. 
The  opportunities  of  the  divine  sonship  are  open  to  every  man. 
Live !     Live  greatly  now ! " 

The  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  a  woman  of  strong  theo- 
logical views  with  the  not  unnatural  tendency  to  identify  them 
with  spiritual  convictions.  At  one  time  she  was  alarmed  lest  her 
sons  should  be  influenced  by  Bushnell's  teaching,  and  she  had 
grave  apprehensions  about  the  soundness  of  Ecce  Homo.  A  ser- 
mon of  Phillips  Brooks  entitled  "The  Mother's  Wonder  "  reveals 
something  of  his  own  experience  in  his  treatment  of  the  inevita- 
ble divergence  of  the  sons  in  the  household  from  the  parents' 
dogmatic  attitude.  But  any  concern  the  mother  may  have  felt 
because  of  the  son's  divergence  from  opinions  to  which  she  ad- 
hered, ceased  to  trouble  her  after  he  came  to  Boston.  She  kept 
the  counsels  of  her  heart  about  intellectual  difficulties  and  new 
developments  in  theology.  It  was  enough  that  he  was  preaching 
Christ  with  a  power  and  insight  she  had  never  known  before. 

As  she  went  about  her  household  duties,  she  was  brooding 
over  a  world  to  be  won  for  Christ.  The  possibility  filled  her  with 
strange  unuttered  enthusiasm.  She  thought  much  about  foreign 
missions.  Her  heart  would  have  suffered,  but  she  would  have 
bravely  bidden  farewell  to  all  her  sons  had  they  been  going 
forth  into  heathen  lands  to  carry  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  "How 
Mother  used  to  talk  to  us  about  Henry  Martyn,"  wrote  Phillips 
Brooks  to  one  of  his  brothers,  when  two  years  later  he  was  in 
India.  The  concentration  of  his  powerful  will  in  combination 
with  the  brooding  love  and  tenderness  for  humanity,  the  yearn- 
ing for  the  well-being  of  humanity,  and  of  individual  men,  the 
clear  single  purpose,  from  which  he  steadfastly  refused  to  be 
turned  aside,  even  by  the  fascination  of  intellectual  culture  or 
literary  creation,  the  growing  devotion  to  Christ  which  mastered 
his  whole  being, — this  we  came  to  know  as  Phillips  Brooks,  and 
this  in  another  form  was  the  spirit  of  his  mother.     The  words  of 


346  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Scripture  which  he  directed  to  be  engraven  upon  the  stone  that 
marks  her  burying-place  were  these:  "0  woman,  great  is  thy 
faith :  be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  Shortly  after  her  death 
he  preached  upon  this  text  in  the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church.  The 
sermon  contains  no  personal  reference,  but  it  is  the  son's  memo- 
rial of  his  mother. 

The  reputation  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  a  preacher  had  now  ex- 
tended into  England  and  Scotland.  When  his  first  volume  of 
sermons  appeared,  it  reached  a  wide  circulation  in  England.  A 
pathetic  interest  attaches  to  this  first  volume  because  Dean 
Stanley  read  it  by  the  bedside  of  his  wife  in  her  last  days.  A  dig- 
nitary of  the  Church  of  England  wrote  to  a  friend  who  sent  it  to 
him: 

"January  21,  1879.  I  must  say  that  Phillips  Brooks  is  of  all 
living  divines  the  one  with  whom  I  feel  I  have  most  in  common, — 
whose  view  of  Christianity  and  the  Christian  life  appears  to  me 
to  be  the  wisest  and  the  healthiest.  I  wish  I  had  the  chance  of 
'sitting  under'  such  a  teacher.  If  we  could  import  him  into  a 
stall  at  Westminster  what  a  gain  it  would  be!" 

The  knowledge  of  the  sermons  came  to  the  Queen,  who  having 
read  them  made  them  a  gift  to  the  Dean  of  Windsor.  Her  Ma- 
jesty having  expressed  a  desire  to  hear  him  preach  when  he  next 
visited  England,  the  invitation  was  conveyed  to  him  by  the  Dean 
of  Windsor,  and  on  Sunday,  the  nth  of  July,  he  preached  in  the 
Chapel  Royal  at  Windsor  Castle.  The  text  of  the  sermon  was 
Rev.  iii.  12:  "Him  that  overcometh  will  I  make  a  pillar  in 
the  temple  of  my  God,  and  he  shall  go  no  more  out:  and  I  will 
write  upon  him  the  name  of  my  God,  and  the  name  of  the  city  of 
my  God  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  my  new  name."1  As  it  was  the  first 
instance  in  which  an  American  clergyman  had  preached  before 
the  Queen,  Dean  Wellesley  was  naturally  interested  in  the  result. 
Writing  to  Dean  Stanley  the  next  day  he  says :  "  Phillips  Brooks 
was  a  complete  success."  After  the  service  the  Queen  sent  for 
him  and  he  had  a  short  interview  with  her. 

On  Sunday,  the  Fourth  of  July,  Mr.  Brooks  preached  at  West- 
minster Abbey,  delivering  his  famous  sermon,  "The  Candle  of 
the  Lord."  Many  felt  that  the  Dean  had  given  a  very  difficult 
«  The  sermon  is  published  in  Sermons,  vol.  ii.,  p.  60. 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY  347 

task  to  an  American  in  asking  him  to  preach  on  that  day  in  such 
a  place.  The  Dean  himself  felt  some  anxiety  about  the  result. 
Lady  Frances  Baillie,  a  sister-in-law  of  Dean  Stanley,  has  contrib- 
uted an  interesting  incident  in  connection  with  the  occasion. 
After  the  service  she  slipped  out  into  the  deanery  by  the  private 
door,  and  reached  the  drawing-room  before  any  of  the  guests 
who  were  to  come  in  from  the  Abbey.  She  found  the  Dean  with 
tears  running  down  his  face,  a  most  extraordinary  thing  for  him ; 
and  as  soon  as  she  appeared  he  burst  out  with  expressions  of  the 
intensest  admiration,  saying  that  he  had  never  been  so  moved 
by  any  sermon  that  he  could  remember,  and  dwelling  on  the 
wonderful  taste  and  feeling  displayed  in  the  passage  at  the  end. 
This  is  the  passage  referred  to,  appended  to  the  sermon  in  order 
to  commemorate  the  day: 

"My  Friends, — May  I  ask  you  to  linger  while  I  say  a  few 
words  more  which  shall  not  be  unsuited  to  what  I  have  been  say- 
ing, and  which  shall,  for  just  a  moment,  recall  to  you  the  sacred- 
ness  which  this  day — the  Fourth  of  July,  the  anniversary  of 
American  Independence — has  in  the  hearts  of  us  Americans.  If 
I  dare — generously  permitted  as  I  am  to  stand  this  evening  in 
the  venerable  Abbey,  so  full  of  our  history  as  well  as  yours — to 
claim  that  our  festival  shall  have  some  sacredness  for  you  as  well 
as  for  us,  my  claim  rests  on  the  simple  truth  that  to  all  true  men 
the  birthday  of  a  nation  must  always  be  a  sacred  thing.  For  in 
our  modern  thought  the  nation  is  the  making-place  of  men.  Not 
by  the  traditions  of  its  history,  nor  by  the  splendor  of  its  corpo- 
rate achievements,  nor  by  the  abstract  excellence  of  its  constitu- 
tion, but  by  its  fitness  to  make  men,  to  beget  and  educate  human 
character,  to  contribute  to  the  complete  humanity,  the  perfect 
man  that  is  to  be, — by  this  alone  each  nation  must  be  judged 
to-day.  The  nations  are  the  golden  candlesticks  which  hold  aloft 
the  glory  of  the  Lord.  No  candlestick  can  be  so  rich  or  vener- 
able that  men  shall  honor  it  if  it  holds  no  candle.  'Show  us 
your  man,'  land  cries  to  land. 

"  In  such  days  any  nation,  out  of  the  midst  of  which  God  has 
led  another  nation  as  He  led  ours  out  of  the  midst  of  yours,  must 
surely  watch  with  anxiety  and  prayer  the  peculiar  development 
of  our  common  humanity  of  which  that  new  nation  is  made  the 
home,  the  special  burning  of  the  human  candle  in  that  new  can- 
dlestick; and  if  she  sees  a  hope  and  promise  that  God  means  to 
build  in  that  land  some  strong  and  free  and  characteristic  man- 
hood, which  shall  help  the  world  to  its  completeness,  the  mother- 
land will   surely  lose  the   thought  and  memory  of   whatever 


348  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

anguish  accompanied  the  birth,  for  gratitude  over  the  gain  which 
humanity  has  made,  'for  joy  that  a  man  is  born  into  the  world.' 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  glorify  to-night  the  country  which  I  love 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  I  may  not  ask  your  praise  for  any- 
thing admirable  which  the  United  States  has  been  or  done.  But 
on  my  country's  birthday  I  may  do  something  far  more  solemn 
and  more  worthy  of  the  hour.  I  may  ask  for  your  prayers  in  her 
behalf.  That  on  the  manifold  and  wondrous  chance  which  God  is 
giving  her, — on  her  freedom  (for  she  is  free,  since  the  old  stain  of 
slavery  was  washed  out  in  blood) ;  on  her  unconstrained  religious 
life ;  on  her  passion  for  education  and  her  eager  search  for  truth ; 
on  her  zealous  care  for  the  poor  man's  rights  and  opportunities; 
on  her  quiet  homes  where  the  future  generations  of  men  are  grow- 
ing; on  her  manufactories  and  her  commerce;  on  her  wide  gates 
open  to  the  east  and  to  the  west;  on  her  strange  meeting  of  the 
races  out  of  which  a  new  race  is  slowly  being  born;  on  her  vast 
enterprise  and  her  illimitable  hopefulness, —  on  all  these  materi- 
ials  and  machineries  of  manhood,  on  all  that  the  life  of  my  coun- 
try must  mean  for  humanity,  I  may  ask  you  to  pray  that  the 
blessing  of  God,  the  Father  of  man,  and  Christ,  the  Son  of  man, 
may  rest  forever. 

"Because  you  are  Englishmen  and  I  am  an  American;  also 
because  here,  under  this  high  and  hospitable  roof  of  God,  we  are 
all  more  than  Englishmen  and  more  than  Americans;  because 
we  are  all  men,  children  of  God  waiting  for  the  full  coming  of  our 
Father's  kingdom,  I  ask  you  for  that  prayer." 

In  a  letter  to  his  brother  Arthur,  Mr.  Brooks  gives  a  short  sum- 
mary of  this  visit  to  England  and  Scotland: 

"  Scotland,  July  25,  1880. 

"The  Highland  journey  has  been  very  beautiful  and  every- 
thing has  gone  well,  the  weather  being  exceptionally  well  be- 
haved. We  had  almost  a  week  in  and  about  Edinburgh  with  a 
little  visit  to  St.  Andrew's,  where  we  saw  Shairp  and  Tulloch  and 
the  little  Divinity  School  over  which  the  author  of  the  '  Rational 
Theology  '  presides.  One  gets  quite  interested  in  theological  quar- 
rels here,  and  listens  to  the  battle  which  is  raging  over  Robinson 
Smith  and  his  articles  in  the  '  Encyclopaedia  Britannica '  with  a 
curious  sort  of  sense  that  he  is  hearing  the  roar  of  an  out-of-the- 
way  skirmish  of  the  same  battlefield  that  he  is  so  familiar  with  at 
home.  The  Kirk  and  the  Free  Church  and  the  U.  P's  keep  up  a 
perennial  turmoil,  and  divide  the  people  of  every  little  county 
town  among  them.  .  .  . 

"In  London  everything  was  very  pleasant.  Stanley  was  very 
devoted,  and  put  us  in  the  way  of  seeing  lots  of  pleasant  sights 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  349 

and  people.  I  preached  for  him  in  the  Abbey  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  and  was  quite  shamed  with  the  way  in  which  Farrar  in  the 
afternoon  outsaid  everything  that  I  possibly  could  have  said 
about  America.  Then  I  went  down  to  Windsor  and  preached. 
.  .  .  Last  Sunday  we  spent  in  Edinburgh  and  heard  their  great 
man  there,  Dr.  MacGregor." 

Mr.  Brooks  returned  to  Boston  to  take  possession  of  the  new 
rectory  of  Trinity  Church,  No.  233  Clarendon  Street,  the  archi- 
tect, Richardson,  having  advised  with  him  in  regard  to  the  plan. 
He  had  at  first  protested  against  the  purpose  of  building  him  a 
fine  house,  but  he  acquiesced  in  the  arrangement,  and  soon  appre- 
ciated its  advantages.  The  house  on  Clarendon  Street  became 
dear  to  him  as  to  his  friends.  It  was  part  of  his  recreation  to 
beautify  it  with  pictures  and  relics  and  souvenirs  of  travel,  till  it 
took  on  a  personal  character  and  seemed  the  expression  of  himself. 

Among  the  letters  of  this  year  there  is  one  to  his  college  class- 
mate, the  Rev.  James  Reed,  pastor  of  the  New  Church  (Sweden- 
borgian)  in  Boston,  thanking  him  for  a  copy  of  his  book : 

"April  29,  1880. 
"I  am  not  a  New  Churchman  in  the  special  meaning  which  the 
words  have  for  you,  but  I  hope  still  that  I  have  some  small  part 
and  lot,  as  I  certainly  have  the  deepest  interest  and  delight,  in 
the  great  New  Church  which  one  feels  moving  everywhere  under 
the  crust  of  sects  and  dogmas  in  these  days :  the  New  Church 
which  comes  down  from  heaven  and  not  up  out  of  the  earth,  and 
whose  power  of  life  and  unity  is  love  and  loyalty  to  the  personal 
Christ. 

"  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  your  Book,  for  it  has  shown 
me  how  much  there  is  that  is  dear  to  both  of  us  alike,  and  has 
helped  me  I  know  in  faith  and  life. 

"May  God  bless  you  always. 

"  Your  old  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

In  the  fall  of  the  year  he  participated  in  the  two  hundred  and 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  First  Church  in  Boston,  where  his  an- 
cestor, John  Cotton,  had  been  a  minister,  and  again  at  Water- 
town  in  the  commemoration  of  the  founding  of  the  town  and 
church  in  1630,  in  which  his  ancestor,  Rev.  George  Phillips,  had 
been  an  important  factor.  "I  am  afraid,"  he  writes,  "that  my 
ancestors  would  not  approve  of  the  people  who  are  celebrating 
them." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


i-ii 


THE  CALL  TO  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  AS  PREACHER  AND 
PROFESSOR  OF  CHRISTIAN  ETHICS.  EXTRACTS  FROM 
CORRESPONDENCE.  MEMORIAL  SERMON  ON  DR.  VIN- 
TON. DEATH  OF  DEAN  STANLEY.  SPEECHES  AT 
CHURCH  CONGRESS.  SECOND  VOLUME  OF  SERMONS. 
THE  STANLEY  MEMORIAL.  REQUEST  FOR  LEAVE  OF 
ABSENCE  FOR  A  YEAR. 

One  of  the  features  of  the  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  its 
adaptation  to  all  classes  of  men.  In  some  way  he  had  bridged 
the  gulf  which  divides  the  people.  He  touched  the  common  hu- 
manity. For  the  most  part  it  had  been  his  mission  to  preach  to 
people  of  intellectual  culture.  He  made  thoughtful  men  and 
women  realize  the  power  of  religion  in  an  age  when  the  current 
of  tendencies  ran  strongly  against  religious  faith.  It  is  true — so 
he  seemed  to  be  constantly  saying, — this  religion  of  Christ ;  it  has 
a  deeper,  larger,  grander  meaning,  and  a  diviner  beauty  than  you 
knew.  It  only  needs  to  be  seen  as  it  really  is  and  you  would 
receive  it  with  enthusiasm. 

It  was  through  his  power  to  meet  the  needs  of  those  who  were 
seeking  to  connect  intellect  with  life  that  he  became  the  favorite 
preacher  to  young  men  in  that  stage  of  their  progress  where  the 
intellect  is  supreme.  Educational  instituticns  recognized  his 
power  and  asked  for  his  aid.  While  in  Philadelphia  he  had  been 
called  to  the  presidency  of  Kenyon  College,  in  Ohio.  He  had 
been  invited  to  take  the  chair  of  Church  History  in  the  Phila- 
delphia Divinity  School,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  his  impulse  had 
been  to  accept  it.  In  1880  he  was  requested  to  consider  the  ques- 
tion of  the  provostship  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.     To 

350 


CALL  TO  HARVARD  351 

Dr.  Weir  Mitchell  he  then  wrote  that,  if  he  were  free,  nothing 
would  attract  him  more,  but,  he  added:  "I  am  a  preacher  to  the 
end." 

But  there  came  a  call  which  shook  his  resolve  to  abide  exclu- 
sively by  the  pulpit.  In  the  spring  of  1881  he  was  invited  to 
accept  the  position  of  preacher  to  Harvard  University  and  pro- 
fessor of  Christian  Ethics.  It  was  an  opportunity  that  strangely 
realized  the  dreams  of  his  youth,  when  his  highest  hopes  would 
have  been  fulfilled  if  he  had  been  offered  a  position  in  Harvard 
College.  To  Harvard  his  whole  heart  had  been  given.  On  com- 
ing to  Boston  he  had  been  at  once  elected  to  the  Board  of  Over- 
seers, and  when  his  first  term  of  service  had  expired  was  re-elected 
for  a  second  term.  In  this  capacity  for  twelve  years  he  had  now 
served  the  college. 

"In  his  position  as  an  Overseer  [says  President  Eliot]  he  sup- 
ported all  changes  which  enlarged  the  freedom  of  the  students, 
simplified  regulations,  and  tended  to  develop  in  the  young  men 
the  capacity  for  self-control.  In  his  judgment  of  character  and 
of  conduct,  he  was  generous  without  being  weak.  He  was  tol- 
erant of  all  religious,  philosophical,  and  political  views  and  opin- 
ions,— so  much  so  that  I  never  heard  him  raise  a  question  on  any 
such  matter  when  the  appointment  of  a  teacher  was  under  dis- 
cussion ;  but  he  had  a  strong  dislike  for  the  pessimistic  or  cynical 
temper,  and  in  a  few  instances  he  expressed  distrust  of  College 
teachers  on  the  ground  that  they  exhibited  this  quality,  in  his 
judgment  so  injurious  to  young  men." 

The  call  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  Harvard  produced  a  widespread 
and  intense  excitement.  There  was  much  speculation  as  to  its 
import  and  possible  consequences, — deep  searchings  of  heart 
when  one  considered  the  issues  involved.  In  the  minds  of  some 
the  consideration  was  foremost  that  the  university  was  breaking 
with  Puritan  traditions  in  handing  over  the  responsibility  for  the 
religious  training  of  its  students  to  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  a 
representative  of  the  Church  of  England  in  America.  For  two 
generations  the  college  had  been  identified  with  Unitarianism. 
To  call  a  minister  of  another  denomination  must  mean  at  least 
that  the  university  was  swinging  away  from  its  position  as  a 
sectarian  institution.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  suspicion 
arose  that  Mr.  Brooks  had  changed  his  creed,  and  under  some 
tacit  understanding  with  the  Corporation  had  been  called  to  the 


352  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

position.  In  the  excitement  which  prevailed,  rumors  were  mag- 
nified into  facts.  Mr.  Brooks  himself  was  so  stirred  by  these 
reports  that  he  went  to  President  Eliot,  and  asked  if  it  were  un- 
derstood by  those  in  authority  that  he  was  a  Trinitarian  in  his 
belief.  The  answer  was  definite  that  he  had  been  called  with  full 
knowledge  of  his  theological  position. 

The  Corporation  of  Harvard  could  not  have  realized  how  great 
would  be  the  interest  their  action  would  awaken,  how  it  would 
stir  the  city  of  Boston,  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  and 
become  a  question  of  importance  to  the  country  at  large.  But 
in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  and  the  confusion,  one  thing  stood 
out  with  clearness, — the  university  in  calling  Phillips  Brooks 
had  performed  an  ideal  act  which  was  above  criticism ;  they  had 
asked  for  the  one  man  whom  they  most  wanted,  who  if  he  came 
would  fill  the  vacant  place,  and  bring  increasing  honor  to  the 
institution.  They  had  supreme  confidence  in  the  man  himself, 
that  under  all  circumstances  he  could  be  trusted  to  do  that  which 
was  right  in  the  eyes  of  all  men. 

It  would  seem  as  though  this  were  a  question  which  a  man  was 
entitled  to  decide  for  himself,  and  that  Phillips  Brooks  must 
insist  upon  this  simple  prerogative  of  his  manhood.  But  here  we 
touch  an  extraordinary  phase  in  this  important  experience  of  his 
life.  He  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  decide  it  for  himself.  The 
issues  at  stake  were  so  momentous,  he  represented  so  much  more 
than  himself,  that  he  was  compelled,  as  it  were,  involuntarily  to 
submit  the  question  to  be  determined  by  the  people  while  he 
waited  for  the  verdict.  Such  is  the  impression  made  when  the 
full  picture  of  the  moment  is  gathered  in.  There  came  a  month 
of  waiting  and  suspense,  filled  up  with  personal  interviews,  when 
letters  flowed  in  upon  him  daily  from  all  parts  of  the  country, 
from  all  classes  of  people,  from  the  governor  of  the  Common- 
wealth and  the  president  of  the  university  down  to  the  humble 
serving  woman  who  had  found  him  her  consolation  in  the  struggle 
of  life.  As  one  studies  this  mass  of  letters,  where  the  question  of 
his  going  to  Harvard  is  discussed  frankly  and  in  all  its  bearing 
by  scholars  and  statesmen  and  thinkers,  by  lawyers  and  men  of 
business,  by  the  clergy  of  all  denominations,  by  women  in  all 
ranks  of  life  as  well  as  by  men,  by  those  who  were  his  closest 
friends  and  by  those  who  had  never  seen  or  heard  him,  there  is 


CALL  TO  HARVARD  353 

conveyed  to  the  mind  the  knowledge  of  how  people  are  feeling  at 
a  definite  moment  in  life,  such  as  one  does  not  get  from  books  or 
history.  Those  who  wrote  and  spoke  to  him  broke  the  cus- 
tomary reticence,  and  told  him  what  they  thought  and  felt.  It 
was  like  listening  to  a  long  eulogy  while  he  was  yet  alive.  It 
had  its  effect.  It  humiliated  him.  He  was  never  again  quite 
the  same  that  he  had  been.  There  was  a  change  in  his  face  and 
bearing,  as  of  one  who  had  seen  a  vision. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  review,  now  that  a  generation  has 
gone  by,  the  history  of  that  critical  moment  in  the  life  of  Phillips 
Brooks.  He  was  the  object  of  a  controversy,  a  battle,  between 
contending  parties,  not  unequally  matched.  It  was  the  case  of  the 
university  representing  academic  interests  against  the  secular 
world,  just  as  in  the  Middle  Ages  it  had  been  the  monastery  at 
war  with  the  secular  church.  Here  the  university  seemed  at 
first  to  have  the  advantage  in  that  Brooks  felt  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  accept  the  call.  He  had  not  discarded  his  early  ambi- 
tion to  do  some  scholarly  work.  Amid  the  pressure  of  duties  in 
a  large  parish  he  felt  at  a  disadvantage  when  questions  arose 
which  could  be  solved  only  by  intellectual  research.  He  liked 
young  men  and  the  associations  of  student  life.  He  had  a  special 
mission  to  young  men  at  the  age  when  the  intellectual  is  too  apt 
to  be  divorced  from  the  moral  and  the  spiritual.  He  was  at  this 
time  forty-five  years  of  age,  not  too  late  to  betake  himself  again 
to  the  distinctive  work  of  a  student.  But  it  was  manifest  enough 
that  he  had  no  time  to  lose.  If  anything  were  to  be  done  in  this 
direction  it  must  be  now,  or  he  must  abandon  the  dream  forever. 

And  further,  he  was  beginning  to  be  wearied  with  the  burden 
he  had  so  long  been  carrying.  For  twenty  years  he  had  stood  in 
the  pulpit  preaching  his  matchless  sermons.  To  exert  the  influ- 
ence he  did  was  to  take  the  life  out  of  him.  With  the  constant 
drain  on  his  vital  powers  it  was  a  marvel  that  he  had  endured  so 
long  without  breaking  down.  People  had  come  to  think  of  his 
work  as  calling  for  no  effort  or  preparation,  welcoming  and  rejoic- 
ing in  his  appearance  as  in  the  sun  shining  in  its  strength.  In  the 
rich  endowment  of  his  nature,  he  seemed  to  work  with  such  abso- 
lute spontaneity  that  no  one  thought  of  a  possible  exhaustion,  or 
if  they  did,  postponed  it  to  years  in  the  remote  future.  Yet 
there  were  signs  already  that  he  had  overtaxed  his  strength.  He 
23 


354  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

knew  that  he  needed  some  great  change,  and  the  opportunity 
was  here  presented  to  him. 

These  personal  considerations  were  reinforced  by  earnest  ap- 
peals from  the  university,  its  officers  and  its  students,  and  by 
others  throughout  the  land,  wherever  the  interests  of  Harvard 
were  cherished.  A  few  of  these  appeals  are  given  here.  They 
came  from  men  of  distinction,  in  varied  walks  of  life : 


"  I  have  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  facts  for  some  thirty 
years,  and  I  speak  of  what  I  do  know  when  I  say  that  your  power 
here  at  this  time  would  exert  a  greater  influence  over  the  edu- 
cated minds  of  the  country  than  in  any  other  position  however 
prominent.  The  one  place  in  the  country  to  fight  and  overpower 
the  agnosticism  which  is  weakening  the  religious  faith  and  sap- 
ping the  manhood  of  the  community  is  just  here.  You  have  a 
wonderful  power,  and  I  do  hope  you  can  view  this  field  of  labor 
as  I  do. " 

"The  College  is  offering  you  the  very  finest  chance  for  work- 
ing '  Christo  et  Ecclesias'  that  has  ever  before  been  offered  to  any 
man  in  this  country." 

"The  greatest  religious  opportunity  in  this  country  will  be  lost 
if  you  say  No." 

"And  who  knoweth  [were  the  words  of  Scripture  quoted  to 
him]  whether  thou  art  come  to  the  Kingdom  for  such  a  time  as 
this?" 

"You  can  touch  the  young  men  at  Harvard.  I  will  not  say 
'you  know  how  to  do  it,'  for  I  doubt  if  you  do  know  how  you 
do  it.     But  God  helping  you,  you  do  it." 

'"No  congregation  in  this  Union  can  give  you  such  a  mighty 
field  of  work  for  God,  just  where  it  is  most  needed,  as  there.  To 
be  the  privileged  teacher  of  thousands  of  men,  themselves  well- 
nigh  all  to  be  in  their  future  life  in  some  high  sense  teachers, 
and  of  such  an  institution,  will  enable  you  to  do  a  work  for  the 
cause  of  Christ  such  as  is  seldom  offered  to  a  man.  And  in  this 
age,  when  there  are  such  intense  mental  awakenings  and  so  much 
silly  orthodoxy  quailing  under  them,  to  have  a  man  who  knows 
how  to  be  true  to  the  essentials  and  yet  not  bound  in  the  grave 
clothes  of  dead  formulas,  seems  to  me  one  of  those  providences 


CALL  TO  HARVARD  355 

of  God  you  ought  not  to  regard  in  any  other  light  or  on  personal 
grounds." 

"  It  means  more  than  dozens  of  Rectorates  or  even  Episcopates. 
Accept  by  all  means.  There  ought  not  to  be  one  moment's  hesita- 
tion, unless  merely  to  enhance  the  effect  of  your  acceptance.  Your 
acceptance  will  do  more  to  leaven  the  intellect  of  the  land  than 
can  well  be  conceived  of." 

Among  the  incidents  of  the  campaign,  as  it  may  be  called,  was 
a  mass  meeting  of  Harvard  students,  where  speeches  were  made 
and  a  petition  signed,  expressing  not  only  the  hope  that  he  would 
come,  but  the  conviction  that  he  could  not  refuse.  "It  was 
probably  the  largest  spontaneous  meeting  of  students  ever  held 
here,"  wrote  the  secretary  of  the  college;  "the  Chapel  was 
packed,  and  more  were  turned  away  than  could  find  seats  or 
standing  room.  The  speeches,  all  made  by  students,  were  so 
earnest,  so  full  of  confidence  in  your  coming  that  I  wished  you 
could  have  heard  them  and  seen  for  yourself  what  Harvard  thinks 
of  your  coming." 

From  the  situation  in  Cambridge  we  turn  to  Boston  and  to 
Trinity  Church.  The  letters  urging  him  to  remain  at  his  post 
were  no  less  positive  in  the  expression  of  convictions  than  those 
advising  his  acceptance  of  the  call,  but  in  number  they  exceeded 
them  in  the  proportion  of  ten  to  one.  We  learn  from  them  what 
he  had  been  to  Boston  in  the  twelve  years  of  his  ministry  at 
Trinity  Church.  He  had  become  so  identified  with  the  city  that 
he  had  given  it  a  new  lustre  and  reputation.  Visitors  from  all 
parts  of  the  country  and  from  abroad  thought  of  it  as  the  home 
of  Phillips  Brooks.  To  hear  him  was  an  inducement  which  led 
strangers  to  remain  over  Sunday,  or  brought  them  as  pilgrims  to 
some  sacred  shrine.  Trinity  Church  during  these  years  had  been 
like  an  open  cathedral,  the  common  property  of  the  people;  or, 
to  change  the  figure,  it  had  become  a  confessional,  whose  spiritual 
directorship  was  bringing  strength  and  consolation,  faith  and 
hope,  to  the  thousands  whom  no  man  can  number.  The  clergy 
of  Boston  knew  better  than  most  the  value  of  Phillips  Brooks's 
work.  They  asked  him  to  remain.  They  said  to  him,  that 
every  church  was  the  stronger  for  his  presence  in  the  city,  that 
they  themselves  were  stronger  to  do  their  work,  that  every  agency 
for  good  was  more  effective  under  the  stimulus  of  his  inspiration. 


356  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

It  had  been  one  of  the  arguments  for  inducing  him  to  go  to 
Harvard  that  he  would  influence  the  future  teachers  of  others  as 
they  passed  through  the  college  on  their  way  into  the  world.  He 
was  now  reminded  that  he  was  doing  this  work  at  Trinity.  Teach- 
ers in  the  public  and  private  schools  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity 
were  drawn  there  in  large  numbers.  He  was  reminded  that  he 
need  not  go  to  Harvard  to  meet  young  men,  for  there  was  a  uni- 
versity in  his  own  parish,  drawn  in  part  from  the  college  and  from 
the  higher  institutions  of  learning  and  professional  schools  in  and 
around  Boston.  Theological  students  came  from  their  semina- 
ries to  listen  to  the  sermons  on  Sunday  afternoons.  It  would 
not,  therefore,  do  to  assume  that  it  would  be  no  loss  to  Boston  if 
he  went  to  Harvard.  The  Governor  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
Massachusetts,  Hon.  John  D.  Long,  took  part  in  the  discussion. 
He  spoke  for  the  city  and  the  State,  and  the  value  of  his  testi- 
mony is  enhanced  in  that  he  was  not  a  member  of  the  same 
religious  communion: 

"April  13th,  1881. 
"My  dear  Mr.  Brooks, — May  I  add  my  sincere  word  in  be- 
half of  your  remaining  in  Boston?  It  seems  to  me  in  the  interest 
of  the  Commonwealth,  with  its  population  accumulating  and  its 
young  men  gathering  in  its  capital,  that  your  close  relation  to 
them  should  not  be  lost.  The  Harvard  boys  do  not  need  you  so 
much.  They  have  everything  already.  If  they  develop  some 
wild  oats,  yet  the  general  surroundings  of  their  college  life  lead 
them  to  higher  opportunities  and  standards  sooner  or  later.  But 
your  reach  in  Cambridge  will  be  nothing  compared  with  what  it 
is  in  Boston,  extending  to  homes,  families,  the  shop,  the  count- 
ing house,  and  every  fibre  of  the  city.  I  cannot  help  feeling  that 
to  change  would  limit  and  not  enlarge  your  work-  I  know  your 
own  judgment  is  best,  but  I  think  you  will  pardon  my  suggestion 
which  is  certainly  sincere. 

"Very  truly  yours, 

"John  D.  Long." 

The  call  had  been  given  in  the  latter  part  of  March,  and  by  the 
middle  of  April  the  excitement  had  grown  to  an  unprecedented 
extent.  The  newspapers  in  Boston  teemed  with  communica- 
tions, representing  varied  points  of  view.  Throughout  the  coun- 
try the  conflict  was  watched  and  commented  on  as  having  some 
undefined  import  for  the  higher  interests  of  life.  Phillips  Brooks 
was  earnestly  besought  to  wait  until  the  question  should  have 


CALL  TO  HARVARD  357 

been  discussed  in  all  its  bearings.  In  the  multitude  of  counsel- 
lors there  was  safety.  Both  parties  felt  more  secure,  if  time  were 
taken  for  the  fullest  consideration. 

As  the  discussion  went  on  the  arguments  against  accepting 
the  call  increased  in  number  and  weight.  This  gift  of  inspired 
speech,  so  divine  and  so  rare,  had  he  any  right  to  endanger  its 
possession  for  the  world  by  any  experiment?  The  conditions  of 
his  place  at  Trinity  Church  had  favored  its  expanding  power. 
What  would  be  the  result  if  he  were  to  withdraw  into  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  university  town?  His  power  as  a  preacher  might  in 
some  way  be  dependent  on  conditions  which  would  be  lost  if  he 
were  to  abandon  the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church:  the  variety  of 
human  experiences  absent  from  student  life,  of  which  a  great 
city  is  full.  Did  he  not  carry  to  students  a  more  valuable  mes- 
sage when  he  went  to  them  with  the  prophetic  burden  of  a  world's 
needs?  And  again  Trinity  Church  was  so  near  the  University 
that  its  students  could  attend  there  easily  if  they  wished.  It 
would  be  only  a  fraction  of  the  students  whom  he  could  reach  at 
Cambridge,  for  a  large  proportion  spent  Sundays  at  their  homes 
in  the  vicinity.  It  was  further  urged  that  he  would  limit  his 
own  freedom,  trained  as  he  had  been  in  the  usages  of  the  Episco- 
pal Church,  if  he  were  to  accept  an  undenominational  position. 
The  Episcopal  Church  at  large  would  also  suffer  in  losing  a  leader 
who  was  leavening  it  with  a  more  comprehensive  theology;  it 
would  be  a  calamity,  from  this  point  of  view,  if  he  abandoned  the 
parish  ministry;  it  might  mean  that  he  would  sacrifice  his  identi- 
fication with  the  Episcopal  Church  altogether. 

The  forces  that  mustered  against  the  call  were  too  strong  to  be 
resisted.  If  the  students  of  Harvard  had  a  mass  meeting  to  urge 
his  coming,  so  also  a  mass  meeting  was  held  in  Boston  in  Hunting- 
ton Hall,  at  which  hundreds  of  young  men  raised  their  voices  in 
protest  against  his  leaving.  The  entire  membership  of  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association  signed  their  names  to  a  request  that 
he  should  remain  in  Boston.  There  came  the  same  request  in  a 
petition  from  a  large  business  establishment,  signed  by  more 
than  fifty  names.  Other  petitions  there  were,  with  the  names 
of  prominent  business  firms  appended.  It  was  no  slight  consider- 
ation that  the  members  of  his  own  family  were  opposed  to  his 
going.     The  wise  counsel  of  the  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks,  in  whose 


358  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

judgment  he  placed  great  confidence,  condemned  on  the  whole 
what  seemed  a  doubtful  experiment.  The  bishop  of  the  diocese 
wrote  asking  him  to  remain.  And  finally  Trinity  Church  spoke 
in  its  organic  capacity  through  the  wardens  and  vestry,  making 
it  evident  that  the  parish  took  for  granted  his  duty  to  remain. 
In  an  elaborate  and  able  paper  their  case  was  laid  before  him, 
closing  with  the  request: 

"We  ask  you  to  determine  nothing  until  you  have  heard  the 
representations  that  will  be  made  by  many  persons  of  whose  deep 
and  personal  concern  in  your  decision  you  are  possibly  not  now 
aware ;  and  when  you  have  heard  all  that  can  be  said  by  those  for 
whom  we  speak,  we  trust  and  believe  that  it  will  be  given  you  to 
see  that  it  is  your  present  duty  not  to  abandon  the  field  in 
which  God  has  made  it  manifest  that  your  power  and  influence 
can  do  a  great  work  for  the  souls  of  all  conditions  of  men." 

From  this  time  he  could  have  had  no  doubt  as  to  his  place  in 
the  hearts  of  his  congregation.  Into  the  sacred  confidences  of 
personal  letters,  where  he  was  told  what  he  had  been  to  the 
hundreds  of  families  in  his  congregation,  we  must  not  enter. 
They  have  one  common  feature, — a  determination  that  he  should 
know  at  last,  not  merely  in  a  general  way  but  by  the  unveiling  of 
individual  experiences,  what  his  work  at  Trinity  had  been  to 
them. 

Other  suggestions  were  made,  relating  to  the  mysterious  work- 
ing of  religion  as  a  motive  power  in  life,  to  which  he  could  not  be 
insensible — potencies  for  good  which  he  would  lose  if  he  went  to 
Harvard.  But  enough  has  been  said  to  make  evident  the  pro- 
cess by  which  the  verdict  was  reached,  although  words  will  not 
express  the  feeling  during  the  long  distressing  day  when  the 
question  was  pending, — the  "terrible  earnestness,"  the  "intense 
anxiety,"  the  "severity  of  the  shock,"  the  "fearful  strain,"  the 
"sorrow  and  the  gloom,"  at  Trinity  Church. 

The  letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  relating  to  this  incident  in  his 
life  are  few  and  tell  little  or  nothing  of  what  he  thought  or  felt. 
He  was  bewildered  and  hardly  knew  what  to  think.  His  mind 
was  rent  with  contradictory  impulses.  There  was  something  in 
him  of  the  feminine  mood  which  led  him  to  go  or  stay  where  he 
was  most  wanted.  He  would  like  to  have  gone  to  Cambridge 
but  he  also  desired  to  remain  at  Trinity.     To  go,  or  to  remain 


CALL  TO  HARVARD  359 

meant  some  inward  suffering.  He  sent  for  Dr.  Vinton  to 
spend  Passion  Week  with  him  in  order  that  he  might  get  his 
counsel,  heretofore  invoked  on  the  changes  in  his  life.  Dr.  Vin- 
ton came  up  from  his  retirement  at  Pomfret, — it  was  to  be  for  the 
--  last  time.  Then  the  question  was  turned  over,  and  the  decision 
reached,  that  he  should  stay  at  Trinity. 

To  a  friend  he  wrote:  "I  hope  it  's  all  right,  but  I  'm  awfully 
blue  about  it."     His  call  on  President  Eliot  was  a  severe  ordeal; 

'  his  face  was  pallid  during  the  short  interview,  as  of  a  man  who 
saw  egress  denied  him  at  a  critical  moment  and  his  life  shut  up, 
for  his  future  years,  to  a  work  from  whose  limitations  and  fearful 
strain  on  his  vital  powers  he  had  dreamed  for  a  moment  of  escap- 
ing. He  acquiesced  in  what  seemed  to  be  the  popular  verdict, 
but  he  knew  that  an  opportunity  had  been  lost,  which  would  not 
return.     He  did  not  understand  or  like  his  exceptional  position, 

,  the  pedestal  on  which  he  was  placed.  In  going  to  Harvard  he 
might  have  passed  from  the  glare  of  publicity  into  the  quiet  life 
he  coveted.  A  tremendous  sacrifice  was  made,  when  the  final 
decision  was  reached. 

There  came  another  series  of  letters  after  the  decision  had  been 
announced,  for  the  most  part  of  a  congratulatory  character. 
Among  them  is  one  from  the  president  of  Haverford  College,  in 
Pennsylvania,  who  wrote : 

"I  had  pleased  myself  with  a  day-dream  of  you  at  Cambridge 
as  a  better  Newman,  leading  the  intellectual  hope  of  the  country, 
not  like  the  Oxford  preacher,  into  the  lions'  den,  but  to  the  prom- 
ised land.  It  may  be,  however,  that  you  will  be  almost  as  influ- 
ential in  the  University  from  Boston  as  from  any  'Appleton 
Chapel,'  however  enlarged;  at  the  same  time  your  influence  over 
the  whole  country  will  be  wider  from  your  present  post.  But 
wherever  you  speak,  I  beg  you  to  feel  that  you  are  privileged  to 
command  the  attention  of  men  at  a  very  critical  period  in  the 
history  of  Christianity.  Religion  and  morality  itself  are  menaced 
by  wild  and  one-sided  speculations ;  but  you  will  continue  to  teach 
that  there  is  an  eternal,  unchangeable  moral  law,  a  God  in  whom 
we  can  trust,  a  Saviour  to  whom  we  can  cling." 

There  is  a  sense  in  which  Harvard  University  gained  in  the 
struggle.  The  old  arrangement  was  abandoned  by  which  one 
man  ministered  to  the  miscellaneous  body  of  students.  A  body 
of  chaplains  was  constituted,  of  which  Mr.  Brooks  was  one,  who, 


360  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

coming  in  from  outside,  with  a  wider  range  in  the  observation  and 
experience  of  life,  could  bring  their  spiritual  force  to  bear  upon 
the  college  life.  This  plan  which  Harvard  was  the  first  to  adopt 
was  gradually  introduced  into  other  colleges.  During  the  next 
ten  years  of  his  life,  Phillips  Brooks  seemed  to  have  at  his  com- 
mand the  open  door  to  students'  life,  throughout  the  leading 
colleges  in  the  country.  It  was  Harvard  University  that  was 
sending  him  forth  with  this  mission.  She  had  placed  her  seal 
upon  him  as  the  great  university  preacher. 

On  April  26,  1881,  Dr.  Vinton  died  at  the  age  of  seventy -four. 
The  eulogy  which  Phillips  Brooks  pronounced  upon  him  in  a 
memorial  sermon  preached  at  Emmanuel  Church,  Boston,  and 
again  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Philadelphia,  was  pub- 
lished by  request  in  pamphlet  form,  but  deserves  a  permanent 
place  among  his  writings  as  the  description  of  an  ideal  which  had 
been  before  him  from  his  boyhood.     He  spoke  of  Dr.  Vinton  as 

"  in  his  true  place  in  that  degree  of  the  ministry  where  preaching 
is  the  constant  duty.  Once  or  twice  they  talked  of  making  him  a 
bishop.  But  it  was  well,  in  his  heart  I  think  he  knew  that  it  was 
well,  that  they  who  formed  such  plans  for  him  did  not  succeed.  .  .  . 
The  great  work  of  the  church  lies  with  the  presbyters.  The 
deacon  saves  the  presbyter  from  some  details  of  work  that  he 
may  be  the  freer  for  his  tasks.  The  bishop  watches  the  ram- 
parts of  the  church  and  secures  for  the  presbyter  the  conditions 
of  peaceful  and  effective  labor.  But  the  great  work  of  the  church 
is  in  the  presbyters.  And  this  was  our  great  presbyter.  That  is 
his  name  and  honor." 

The  pastoral  office  as  embodied  in  Dr.  Vinton  is  thus  described : 

"I  stop  a  moment  and  think  of  that  great  pastorship,  of  all  it 
meant  to  countless  souls;  and  to  have  lived  in  it  and  carried  it 
on  as  he  did  seems  to  me  to  be  an  indescribable,  an  inestimable 
privilege.  A  great  pastorship  is  the  noblest  picture  of  human 
influence  and  of  the  relationship  of  man  to  man  which  the  world 
has  to  show.  It  is  the  canonization  of  friendship.  It  is  friend- 
ship lifted  above  the  regions  of  mere  instinct  and  sentiment  and 
fondness,  above  all  thought  of  policy  or  convenience,  and  exalted 
into  the  mutual  helpfulness  of  the  children  of  God.  The  pastor 
is  father  and  brother  both  to  those  whose  deepest  lives  he  helps 
in  deepest  ways.  His  belonging  to  his  people  is  like  the  broad 
spreading  of  the  sky  over  the  lives  of  men  and  women  and  little 


SERMON  ON  DR.  VINTON  361 

children,  of  good  and  bad,  of  weak  and  strong,  on  all  of  whom 
alike  it  sheds  its  rain  and  dew." 

Dr.  Vinton  had  borne  himself  well  in  the  trying  experience 
which  comes  to  older  men  who  have  been  leaders,  when  the  new 
generation  comes  in  with  a  departure  from  time-honored  ways, — 
a  model  to  young  men  who  in  their  turn  must  encounter  the  same 
difficulty. 

"Those  years  from  1858  to  1861  were  interesting  years  to  any 
minister  of  our  church,  because  of  the  new  drifts  and  tendencies 
of  Christian  thought  which  were  beginning  to  become  pro- 
nounced. Ritualism  and  rationalism  were  claiming  their  places 
in  the  church.  Especially  in  the  latter  of  these  two  directions 
the  movement  became  vigorous  and  prominent  about  that  time. 
The  famous  '  Essays  and  Reviews'  were  published  in  i860,  and  the 
whole  liberal  or  broad  church  tendency  attracted  the  interest  of 
thinking  men.  It  would  not  be  right  to  try  to  sketch  the  life  of 
Dr.  Vinton,  and  not  to  tell  how  he  regarded  that  movement  in  which 
he  was,  through  all  the  last  years  of  his  life,  so  deeply  interested. 
He  mistrusted  it  and  feared  it.  He  disagreed  with  many  of  its 
processes  and  most  of  its  conclusions.  At  the  same  time  he  never 
withheld  his  friendship  and  his  love  from  those  who  were  most 
earnestly  in  sympathy  with  it,  nor  ever  gave  them  anything  but 
help  and  godspeed  in  their  work.  He  never  recoiled  from  it  with 
horror.  .  .  .  For  my  part,  I  thank  Dr.  Vinton  for  many  and 
many  a  word  even  of  protest  against  what  I  thought  was  true, 
which,  while  it  made  me  more  anxious  and  careful  to  be  sure  that 
what  I  thought  was  truth  was  really  true,  made  me  also  more 
earnest  in  holding  it  as  I  became  convinced  that  I  was  not  mis- 
taken. And  I  am  sure  that  his  great  soul  would  not  grudge  me 
that  gratitude." 

There  creeps  into  the  correspondence  of  Phillips  Brooks  at 
this  time  the  evidence  of  physical  weariness.  He  found  the  ser- 
mon on  Dr.  Vinton  one  of  the  hardest  things  that  he  had  ever 
undertaken ;  and  he  mentions  that  while  he  was  writing  it  the 
weather  was  atrocious.  He  declines  an  invitation  to  take  a 
journey,  which  would  call  for  physical  endurance,  on  the  ground 
that  he  is  no  longer  good  for  such  things.  On  hearing  that  one 
of  his  clerical  friends  proposed  to  take  a  rest  of  more  than  a  year 
he  says:  "  It  is  getting  to  be  kind  of  tame  and  vulgar  to  plod  right 
on.     But  it  is  pleasant  nevertheless." 

Among  the  important  books  which  appeared  in  1881  was  Dr. 


362  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Mulford's  Republic  of  God,  which  broke  the  long  silence  of  the 
younger  men  on  the  religious  issues  of  the  day.  To  a  lady  who 
wrote  after  Dr.  Mulford's  lamented  death,  asking  his  opinion  of 
the  book,  he  replied: 

"Dr.  Mulford  was  a  most  interesting  man,  and  his  book  is  one 
of  the  most  inspiring  and  exasperating  things  that  anybody  ever 
wrote.  It  is  as  bright  and  deep  and  vague  as  the  sky.  I  twill 
never  be  much  read,  but  a  few  men  will  get  out  of  it  what  they 
will  interpret  to  the  world.  He  was  not  a  man  for  the  ecclesias- 
ticism  of  the  Church  to  make  much  out  of,  but  he  was  felt,  and 
his  loss  nobody  can  make  good." 

Mr.  Brooks  took  no  vacation  from  preaching  during  the  sum- 
mer of  1 88 1.  Every  Sunday  found  him  in  his  place  in  the  pulpit 
of  Trinity  Church.  During  the  week  he  visited  parishioners 
in  their  summer  homes.  It  was  a  summer  to  be  remembered 
because  of  the  assassination  of  President  Garfield,  when  for  weeks 
the  country  was  in  suspense  waiting  for  the  fatal  issue. 

"How  it  brings  back  that  awful  Friday  sixteen  years  ago,  only 
this  is  more  wretched  because  it  is  not  connected  with  any  great 
issue  and  has  no  more  dignity  than  must  always  belong  to  death 
— if  it  is  to  be  death.  The  assassin  seems  to  have  been  the  most 
miserable  moonstruck  vagabond — and  his  object  nothing  more  than 

disappointed  spite.     I  met on  the  street  just  after  we  had 

heard  of  it  this  morning,  and  he  told  me  of  an  article  he  had  been 
writing  upon  the  folly  of  allowing  the  President  of  the  United 
States  to  go  about  without  a  bodyguard !    Every  goose  will  sting  his 

own  sermon  into  the  dreadful  tragedy.     I  saw ,  and  he  had 

several  delightful  and  subtle  theories  about  it.  But  the  one  thing 
to  do  now  is  to  hope  that  Garfield  will  get  well  and  that,  we  shall 
be  spared  the  infliction  of  Arthur  as  President.  We  shall  pray 
for  the  President  to-night  at  the  '  usual  meeting  previous  to  the 
Communion.'  " 

The  summer  brought  another  sorrow,  in  the  death  of  Dean 
Stanley,  which  took  place  July  18.  On  hearing  the  sad  intel- 
ligence, he  wrote  to  the  Dean's  sister-in-law,  Lady  Frances 
Baillie: 

"Clarendon  Street,  July  23,  1881. 

"My  dear  Lady  Frances, — I  hope  that  I  shall  not  seem  to 
you  strangely  intrusive  if  I  try  to  tell  you  something  of  my  deep 
sympathy  with  you  and  of  the  deep  thankfulness  with  which  I 


DEATH  OF  STANLEY  363 

think  of  our  dear  friend's  beautiful  life.  It  seems  to  me  as  per- 
fect a  picture  of  human  living  as  the  world  has  ever  seen, — and 
what  it  suggests  and  promises  for  his  great  future,  for  the  other 
life  (as  we  blindly  call  it)  which  he  has  begun,  is  past  all  expres- 
sion. My  first  thought  is  all  of  him,  of  the  rich  and  sacred 
delight  which  hr,s  come  to  that  insatiable  appetite  for  truth  and 
that  deep  love  for  God. 

"But  when  I  let  myself  think  of  all  his  kindness  to  me,  of  how 
he  has  welcomed  me  with  that  beautiful  welcome  of  his  which  was 
like  no  other  man's,  of  how  England  has  been  bright  and  tempt- 
ing to  me,  most  of  all  because  he  was  there,  the  world  seems 
sadly  altered  now  that  I  shall  never  see  him  again. 

"I  remember  so  perfectly  the  first  time  I  saw  him.  Lady 
Augusta  was  with  him  in  the  library  of  the  dear  old  deanery, 
and  before  we  had  loosened  hands,  it  was  as  if  she  and  he  had 
given  me  the  right  to  count  them  friends  forever.  That  was  in 
1874,  and  from  that  day  on,  with  all  his  cares  and  interests,  he 
was  so  full  of  thoughtful  kindness,  that  he  did  not  even  let  me 
think  how  little  right  I  had  to  any  words  or  thought  of  his.  But 
I  did  give  him,  and  I  will  give  him  always,  that  love  and  grati- 
tude which  is  all  that  such  as  I  am  can  give  to  such  as  he  is. 

"Surely  we  cannot  lose  him.  We  have  not  lost  him.  We  are 
with  him  in  the  love  of  God  in  which  he  rests  at  peace. 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  tell  you  what  he  was  when  he  was  here  in 
America;  what  friends  he  made,  what  a  memory  of  him  remains, 
and  what  a  multitude  of  hearts  are  mourning  for  him,  as  if  he 
was  their  friend. 

"But  more  than  this  is  the  blessed  work  that  he  has  done  for 
Christ  and  for  the  Church.  That  cannot  die,  It  will  be  part  of 
the  great  future  for  which  he  kept  such  an  unfaltering  hope,  and 
which  we  may  believe  he  now  discerns  with  perfect  clearness. 
And  it  is  sweet  for  us  all  because  he  believed  in  it  so. 

"Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  ought  not  to  have  written,  for  his 
sake.  I  send  my  kindest  remembrance  to  your  daughter,  and  I 
am,  with  truest  sympathy, 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  Phillips  Brooks." 

In  response  to  a  call  from  the  editor  of  The  Atlantic  Monthly, 
Mr.  Brooks  broke  the  rule  to  which  he  had  so  far  adhered  and 
wrote  an  article  on  Dean  Stanley.  He  dwelt  on  Stanley's  work 
in  clothing  the  Bible  with  a  fascinating  interest.  Although 
Brooks  never  felt  the  charm  with  which  its  union  with  the  state 
invests  the  English  Church,  he  thought  Stanley's  Essays  on  Church 
and  State  a  book  every  religious  student  should  read.  He  greatly 
admired  his  last  volume  on  Christian  Institutions,  for  its  wonder- 


364  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

ful  clearness  and  power,  and  as  showing  how  in  an  age  of  per- 
plexity and  disbelief  Stanley  stood  high  among  the  faithful  souls 
who  refuse  to  despair  of  the  Church  of  Christ.     As  we  read  it 

"it  is  as  if  we  heard  the  quiet  word  spoken  which  breaks  the  spell 
of  ecclesiasticism,  and  the  imprisoned  truth  or  principle  wakes 
and  stands  upon  its  feet  and  looks  us  in  the  eye.  The  flush  of 
life  comes  back  into  the  hard  face  of  dead  ceremonies,  and  their 
soul  reveals  itself.  Bubbles  of  venerable  superstition  seem  to 
burst  before  our  eyes ;  and  we  feel  sure  anew,  with  fresh  delight 
and  hope,  that  not  fantastical  complexity,  but  the  simplicity 
of  naturalness,  is  the  real  temple  in  which  we  are  to  look  for 
truth." 

He  recalled  Stanley's  personal  charm,  the  charm  also  of  his 
preaching : 

"Apart  from  the  beautiful  simplicity  of  his  style  and  the  rich- 
ness of  illustrative  allusion,  the  charm  of  his  sermons  was  very 
apt  to  lie  in  a  certain  way  which  he  had  of  treating  the  events  of 
the  day  as  parts  of  the  history  of  the  world,  and  making  his 
hearers  feel  that  they  and  what  they  were  doing  belonged  as  truly 
to  the  history  of  their  race,  and  shared  as  truly  in  the  care  and 
government  of  God,  as  David  and  his  wars,  or  Socrates  and  his 
teachings.  As  his  lectures  made  all  times  live  with  the  familiar- 
ity of  our  own  day,  so  his  sermons  made  our  own  day,  with  its 
petty  interests,  grow  sacred  and  inspired  by  its  identification  with 
the  great  principles  of  all  the  ages." 

The  effect  of  the  call  to  Harvard  was  to  bring  Mr.  Brooks 
into  closer  relationship  with  the  University.  He  took  his  turn 
in  preaching  at  Appleton  Chapel  and  in  conducting  morning 
prayers.  He  felt  keenly  the  responsibility  for  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  the  students)  and  in  his  devotion  to  the  students  he  did 
not  begrudge  the  claims  upon  his  time.  "I  am  chaplain  this 
week  at  Cambridge,"  he  writes,  "and  go  there  every  morning 
for  prayers.  It  is  very  pleasant,  but  it  takes  lots  of  time.  I 
have  to  leave  here  at  eight  o'clock  and  do  not  get  back  till  ten." 

At  the  seventh  Church  Congress,  which  was  held  at  Provi- 
dence, in  October,  Mr.  Brooks  was  one  of  the  appointed  speakers 
on  the  subject  of  "Liturgical  Growth."  The  subject  was  full 
of  interest  at  the  time,  for  the  question  of  "the  enrichment  of  the 
Prayer  Book"  was  before  the  General  Convention  of  the  Epis- 


CHURCH  CONGRESS  365 

copal  Church.  He  pleaded  for  extemporaneous  prayer  on  the 
ground  that  in  a  comprehensive  church,  such  as  the  Episcopal 
Church  claimed  to  be,  this  element  of  power  and  flexibility 
should  be  included.  It  was  not  enough  that  a  clergyman  was 
already  at  liberty  to  make  the  extemporaneous  prayer  at  the 
close  of  his  sermon,  a  liberty  of  which  he  freely  availed  himself. 
So  long  as  the  rubrics  did  not  authorize  it,  he  felt  bound  to  re- 
frain from  indulging  his  preference,  for  he  was  scrupulous  in 
adherence  to  the  prescribed  form  and  order. 

The  paper  on  "Liturgical  Growth"  shows  that  he  keenly  felt 
the  restriction  which  made  it  impossible  to  pray  with  an  open 
heart  at  critical  moments,  when  the  freedom  of  the  soul  should 
be  granted.  When  the  city  of  Chicago  was  in  flames  the  General 
Convention,  then  in  session,  showed  its  sympathy  and  asked  the 
Divine  aid  by  reciting  the  Litany,  while  the  name  of  the  city  and 
the  awful  occasion  were  passed  over  in  silence.  Even  the 
Roman  Church  possessed  flexibility  in  striking  contrast  with 
this  hard  conservatism  and  immobility.  He  denounced  this 
conservative  attitude  as  showing  lack  of  faith  in  the  principle 
of  liturgical  worship. 

Upon  one  topic  he  volunteered  to  speak  at  this  same  Church 
Congress, — a  thing  unusual,  for  when  people  were  met  to  talk  it 
was  his  custom  to  be  silent.  The  Revised  Version  of  the  New 
Testament  was  one  of  the  subjects  for  discussion.  He  listened 
to  the  objections  to  it  by  the  various  speakers, — its  sacrifice  of 
rhythm  in  style  and  of  familiar  expressions  which  had  become 
dear.  He  listened  till  he  could  bear  it  no '  longer,  and  rose  in  his 
majestic  presence  to  make  his  way  to  the  platform. 

"The  thing  that  is  really  upon  trial  [he  said]  is  not  the  Revised 
Version  but  the  Church.  If  a  man  is  going  to  translate  a  book 
for  me,  the  one  thing  I  demand  is  scrupulousness, — the  most 
absolute  fidelity  to  details,  the  absolute  binding  of  themselves  to 
the  simple  question  how  they  could  most  completely  represent  the 
Greek  in  English,  letting  the  question  of  literary  merit  take  care 
of  itself.  That  is  the  one  great  evidence  of  faithfulness  to  their 
charge  which  we  had  a  right  to  ask  of  those  men  who  undertook 
this  responsible  work,  which  work  so  far  Christendom  has 
stamped  with  its  approval  as  to  its  accuracy.  If  a  man  came  to 
me  to-morrow,  and  wanted  to  know  what  Christianity  was,  to 
understand  the  words  of  Christ,  I  should  be  absolutely  bound  to 
give  him  the  New  Version  and  not  the  old  one. 


366  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"  The  great  body  of  new  Christians  are  reading  the  new  book. 
God  grant  that  our  Church  may  not  condemn  us  to  read  the  old 
and  faulty  book  in  our  churches,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  new  and 
corrected  one,  and  so  lag  behind,  as  we  have  done  again  and 
again,  and  only  with  a  tardy  run  by  and  by  come  up  abreast  of 
the  great  dominant  sentiment  and  the  prevailing  convictions  of 
our  fellow-Christians." 


In  consequence  of  his  bold  treatment  of  both  these  topics  he 
incurred  the  strictures  of  the  ecclesiastical  press,  which,  without 
mentioning  him  by  name,  referred  to  "a  brilliant  and  popular 
preacher"  who  had  recently  been  making  some  rash  remarks. 

In  the  fall  of  1881  Dr.  Brooks  published  his  second  volume 
of  sermons,  under  the  title  The  Candle  of  the  Lord,  and  other 
Sermons.  It  met  with  the  same  reception  accorded  to  the  first 
volume,  reaching  a  sale  of  over  twenty-one  thousand.  The 
titles  of  the  sermon  are  felicitously  chosen,  and  linger  in  the 
memory.  Most  of  them  had  been  written  in  the  seventies  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  his  preaching  at  Trinity  Church.  Out  of  the 
twenty-one  sermons  which  the  volume  contains,  the  texts  of  nine 
are  from  the  Old  Testament.  If  this  circumstance  has  any  sig- 
nificance, it  lies  in  showing  his  gift  of  the  poetic  imagination 
applied  to  the  interpretation  of  life.  He  repelled  the  insinua- 
tion, that  the  Christian  pulpit  lingers  too  long  among  Jewish 
antiquities.  He  found  in  the  Old  Testament  perpetual  inspira- 
tion, the  disclosure  of  the  process  by  which  God  reveals  His  life  to 
the  world.  The  texts  of  sermons  in  his  second  Volume  taken 
from  the  Old  Testament  recall  some  of  the  most  abiding  impres- 
sions of  his  preaching.  The  bush  which  burned  and  was  not 
consumed  stands  for  the  continuity  of  one's  years;  the  joy  of 
self-sacrifice  is  typified  in  ancient  ritual,  when  the  "song  of  the 
Lord  began  with  trumpets"  at  the  moment  of  the  burnt  offering; 
to  lift  up  one's  eyes  to  the  hills  is  to  see  all  lower  sources  of  com- 
fort and  consolation  as  having  their  origin  in  the  highest,  which 
is  God ;  the  curse  which  was  upon  Meroz  is  the  curse  upon  human 
inactivity  in  any  age  whenever  the  crises  of  life  are  upon  men. 
The  accumulation  of  faith  makes  it  possible  to  believe  that  God 
is  as  powerful  in  the  present  as  in  the  past, — "  He  could  overcome 
the  worldliness  of  the  eighteenth  century,  He  can  overcome  the 
materialism  and  fatalism  of  the  nineteenth  century ;  as  in  ancient 


PARISH  MINISTRY  367 

times  He  not  only  smote  the  rock  that  the  waters   gushed  out, 
but  He  also  provided  bread  for  His  people." 

It  is  hard  to  speak  of  some  of  these  sermons  without  speaking 
of  all.  But  a  few  must  be  specially  mentioned,  In  the  sermon 
on  "The  Manliness  of  Christ,"  which  strangely  touched  the  con- 
science of  every  one  who  heard  it,  he  probes  the  consciousness 
for  the  reason  why  men  have  failed  to  see  the  strength  of  Christ, 
and  makes  apparent  the  defect,  and  the  cause  of  the  defect, 
felt  in  the  traditional  portraits  of  Christ. 

The  sermon  on  "  The  Law  of  Liberty"  delivered  many  times,  has 
in  it  a  reminder  of  Chalmers  and  Bushnell,  but  does  not  suffer  by 
comparison.  In  the  closing  passage,  he  asks  what  the  result 
would  be  of  taking  off  the  restraints  of  education  and  of  social 
order,  leaving  each  man  free  to  seek  his  own  place. 

The  sermon  on  "  The  Mystery  of  Light "  gives  a  contrast  be- 
tween the  two  kinds  of  mystery,  that  of  light  and  that  of  dark- 
ness. It  is  no  more  possible  to  measure  the  depths  of  one  than 
of  the  other.  Current  popular  objections  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  are  mistaken  in  considering  it  as  a  mystery  of  darkness, 
when  in  reality  it  is  the  dazzling,  bewildering  mystery  of  light. 

This  second  volume  of  sermons,  like  the  first,  shows  traces  of 
the  time, — that  moment  in  the  history  of  religious  experience 
when  there  was  a  storm  on  the  ocean  of  life  and  much  wreckage 
of  faith;  when  Phillips  Brooks  had  stood  forth  as  a  commander 
to  the  people.  On  a  Thanksgiving  Day,  when  his  church  over- 
flowed with  hearers  who  anticipated  the  importance  of  the  mes 
sage  to  be  delivered,  he  took  for  his  text  the  words  of  the  prophet 
Ezekiel,  "Son  of  man,  stand  upon  thy  feet,  and  I  will  speak  to 
thee."  His  subject  was  the  need  of  self-respect  as  a  condition 
for  hearing  the  voice  of  God  in  revelation. 

"If  this  be  a  truth,  is  it  not  a  great  truth  and  one  that  needs 
continually  to  be  preached  ?  The  other  truth  is  often  urged  upon 
us  that  if  we  do  not  listen  humbly  we  shall  listen  in  vain.  But 
this  truth  is  not  so  often  preached,  nor,  I  think,  so  generally  felt, 
— unless  you  honor  your  life,  you  cannot  get  God's  best  and  fullest 
wisdom;  unless  you  stand  upon  your  feet,  you  will  not 'hear 
God  speak  to  you.  ...  I  am  sure  you  know  whereof  I  speak. 
In  large  circles  of  life — and  they  are  just  those  circles  in  which  a 
great  many  of  us  live,  there  is  an  habitual  disparagement  of  human 
life,  its  joys  and  its  prospects.     Man  is  on  his  face.     It  seems  to  me 


368  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

that  he  must  hear  God's  voice  calling  him  to  another  attitude,  or 
he  is  hopeless.  '  Son  of  man,  stand  upon  thy  feet,  and  I  will  speak 
to  thee.' " 

The  year  1881  as  it  came  to  a  close  brought  his  forty -fifth 
birthday.  As  he  entered  the  forties  he  had  begun  to  sigh  for  the 
youth  that  was  passing,  and  to  realize  that  something  had  been 
lost.  When  he  was  reminded  of  the  increasing  wealth  that  came 
with  maturity,  the  larger  vision,  the  mature  ripeness  of  the  pow- 
ers, he  declared  there  was  in  them  no  compensation  for  that 
which  was  gone.  In  his  sermon  on  "The  Manliness  of  Christ" 
he  is  brooding  upon  this  issue : 

"It  would  seem,  then,  as  if  this  truth  were  very  general,  that 
in  every  development  there  is  a  sense  of  loss  as  well  as  a  sense  of 
gain.  The  flower  opening  into  its  full  luxuriance  has  no  longer 
the  folded  beauty  of  the  bud.  The  summer  with  its  splendor  has 
lost  its  fascinating  mystery  of  the  springtime.  The  family  of 
grown-up  men  remembers  almost  with  regret  the  crude  dreams 
which  filled  the  old  house  with  romance  when  the  men  were  boys. 
The  reasonable  faith  to  which  the  thinker  has  attained  cannot 
forget  the  glow  of  vague  emotion  with  which  faith  began.  .  .  . 
Who  is  not  aware  of  that  strange  sense  of  loss  which  haunts  the 
ripening  man?  With  all  that  he  has  come  to,  there  is  something 
that  he  has  left  behind.  In  some  moods  the  loss  seems  to  out- 
weigh the  gain.  He  knows  it  is  not  really  so,  but  yet  the  mis- 
giving that  freshness  has  been  sacrificed  to  maturity,  intenseness 
to  completeness,  enthusiasm  to  wisdom,  makes  the  pathos  of  the 
life  of  every  sensitive  and  growing  man." 

This  is  one  of  the  passages  scattered  through  his  sermons  where 
the  preacher  is  telling  of  his  own  experience.  When  these  moods 
were  on  him  he  took  them  to  the  pulpit,  as  to  some  mount  of  vi- 
sion, to  test  them  there.  What  would  not  prove  a  source  of 
strength  and  elevation  could  not  be  true.  In  his  sermon  on  "The 
Symmetry  of  Life,"  preached  on  Advent  Sunday,  he  gives  the 
corrective  of  depressing  moods.  His  text  was  from  the  Book  of 
Revelation,  in  whose  imagery  he  delighted,  "The  length  and 
the  breadth  and  the  height  of  it  are  equal." 

To  his  youngest  brother  he  wrote  on  Christmas  Eve: 

"  How  many  Christmas  Eves  we  have  spent  together!  Do  you 
remember  how  we  used  to  go  up  to  St.  Mark's  and  then  come 


PARISH  MINISTRY  369 

back  and  wander  through  the  toy-shops  and  look  up  children's 
presents,  and  then  how  you  would  go  home  and  find  father  nail- 
ing up  Christmas  wreaths?  Well,  that  's  all  over,  and  here  I  am 
alone  with  the  Christmas  festival  safely  over  and  the  Christmas 
sermon  done,  and  cheering  myself  up  by  looking  at  the  mighty 
pretty  little  vase  you  have  sent  me,  and  by  thinking  how  very 
kind  you  were  to  send  it." 

Watch  Night  was  kept  as  usual  at  Trinity  Church,  and  on 
returning  to  his  house  he  found  a  New  Year's  gift  awaiting  him 
from  the  members  of  the  Clericus  Club, — a  bronze  statue  of  John 
the  Baptist  in  the  attitude  of  preaching, — a  token  of  recognition 
on  the  part  of  the  club  of  his  hospitality  in  throwing  open  his 
house  for  its  monthly  meetings. 

In  this  month  of  January  Mr.  Brooks  undertook  soliciting 
subscriptions  for  a  memorial  of  Dean  Stanley  to  be  placed  in  the 
Chapter  House  of  Westminster  Abbey.  At  a  meeting  held  on 
December  13,  1881,  to  commemorate  Stanley's  birthday,  it  had 
been  suggested  that  the  opportunity  be  given  to  friends  of  Stan- 
ley in  America  to  contribute  to  the  completion  of  the  Chapter 
House,  by  supplying  one  of  the  windows,  for  which  Stanley  had 
already  furnished  the  designs.  The  amount  required,  ^1000, 
came  in  so  quickly  in  response  to  Mr.  Brooks's  appeal  that  by  the 
month  of  March  some  three  hundred  persons  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  had  sent  in  subscriptions  whose  total  amount  exceeded 
what  was  called  for  by  several  hundred  dollars.  In  a  letter  to  a 
friend  in  England,  he  spoke  of  the  list  of  subscribers : 

"You  will  know  many  of  the  names:  Mr.  Winthrop  and  Mr. 
Adams  among  our  oldest  public  men;  Longfellow,  Holmes,  and 
Whittier  among  the  poets;  Parkman  and  Bancroft  among  the 
historians ;  Emerson,  the  philosopher,  who  was  most  glad  to  make 
his  contribution;  the  bishops  of  Massachusetts,  New  York,  Mich- 
igan, Rhode  Island,  Connecticut,  and  Nebraska;  clergymen  of 
all  sorts,  Episcopalians,  Unitarians,  Baptists,  Congregationalists ; 
men  of  business,  college  students,  and  professors,  and  then  a 
great  many  who  have  simply  read  the  Dean's  books  and  have 
personal  gratitude  for  him." 

Ash  Wednesday  fell  on  the  2 2d  of  February.  The  prevailing 
usage  now  called  for  a  multiplication  of  services  till  they  were 
held  every  day  of  the  week,  and  in  Passion  week  each  day  was 


370  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

observed  by  two  and  even  three  services.  Mr.  Brooks  accommo- 
dated himself  to  the  change,  but  with  some  misgivings.  He 
humorously  remarks  in  a  letter  that  he  is  wearing  out  the  bricks 
between  his  residence  and  the  "meeting-house." 

"We  have  got  the  thing  a  great  deal  too  full  and  complicated. 
No  one  service  amounts  to  much  in  the  way  of  exciting  thought 
or  feeling,  and  the  whole  long  stretch  of  services  grows  tame  if 
not  tiresome.  Besides  this  there  has  got  to  be  a  sort  of  rivalry 
between  parishes,  as  if  the  one  which  had  the  most  services  were 
the  most  godly  flock  and  shepherd.  Men  get  each  other's  '  Lent 
Cards'  and  compare  them,  to  see  who  is  doing  the  most  'work.' 
There  '11  be  a  great  collapse  some  day." 

After  Easter  Mr.  Brooks  admitted  that  he  needed  a  complete 
change,  and  a  long  one;  and  the  subject  was  mentioned  to  the 
wardens  and  vestrymen  of  Trinity  Church.  He  had  not  yet  made 
up  his  mind  definitely  how  long  he  should  wish  to  be  absent  from 
home,  but  intimated  that  he  might  possibly  conclude  to  ask  for 
an  entire  year.  The  answer  of  the  Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church 
conceding  his  request  was  prompt  and  generous: 

"The  Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church,  deeply  grateful  for  the 
invaluable  services  which  have  been  rendered  us  by  Mr.  Brooks, 
during  the  more  than  twelve  years  of  his  rectorship,  and  fearing 
that  he  may  be  in  need  of  a  longer  and  more  continuous  rest 
from  his  devoted  labors  than  he  has  ever  yet  been  willing  to 
allow  himself,  desire  to  express  their  sincere  wish  that,  in  going 
abroad  this  summer,  he  may  not  feel  bound  to  limit  his  vacation 
too  narrowly,  but  may  be  at  perfect  liberty  to  linger  in  other 
climates  for  the  autumn,  winter,  and  following  summer,  if 
he  shall  deem  such  a  stay  more  likely  to  bring  him  back  to  us 
with  invigorated  health  and  strength  for  the  work  which  we 
count  upon  so  earnestly  in  future  years." 

Just  before  sailing  for  Europe  he  wrote  this  letter  to  Mr.  Cooper : 

"June  20,  1882. 

"Dear  Cooper, — While  I  am  waiting  for  the  carriage  which 
is  to  take  me  to  Europe  my  last  letter  shall  be  to  you.  I  got 
your  good  kind  letter  yesterday,  and  it  was  like  the  Benediction  I 
had  been  waiting  for,  the  last  blessing,  which  I  had  half  hoped  to 
get  on  board  the  Servia  at  New  York,  but  your  dear  old  hand- 
writing is  the  next  thing  to  it. 

"What  lots  of  good  times  we  have  had  together!     Race  Street 


PARISH  MINISTRY  371 

and  the  mountains  and  the  lakes  and  the  Tyrol  and  Switzerland 
and  Paris  and  Boston  and  Spruce  Street  for  twenty-two  years. 
And  now  it  seems  as  if  you  ought  to  be  going  with  me.  The 
journey  does  n't  look  lovely  or  attractive  this  morning,  but  of 
course  it  will  all  brighten  up  by  and  by  and  there  will  be  lots  to 
enjoy,  but  the  best  of  it  all  will  be  getting  home  again.  So  keep 
well  and  young  and  strong  so  that  we  may  have  still  a  lot  of  talks 
together. 

"Thank  you,  dear  Cooper,  for  your  long  friendship  and 
unfailing  kindness.  May  God  be  good  to  you  as  you  have  been 
to  me. 

"Well,  well,  a  year  from  next  September. 

"Good-bye,  good-bye. 

"P.  B." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1882-1883. 

PLANS  FOR  THE  YEAR  ABROAD.  GERMANY.  CORRE- 
SPONDENCE. EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS.  INDIA. 
EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL.  RETURN 
FROM  INDIA.  VISIT  TO  SPAIN.  RECEPTION  IN 
ENGLAND.  VISIT  TO  TENNYSON.  LETTERS.  EX- 
TRACTS   FROM    JOURNAL. 

When  it  was  known  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  be  absent  for 
a  year  and  his  voice  silenced  during  all  that  time  the  people 
wondered.  It  seemed  as  if  no  answer  to  the  question,  why  he 
should  go  away,  was  quite  satisfactory.  It  was  unreasonable, 
inexplicable,  that  he  should  stop  preaching  when  the  world  was 
waiting  to  listen.  Vague  rumors  were  in  the  air — fears  that 
something  was  wrong.  One  answer  that  he  gave  to  the  question 
why  he  went  was  that  he  had  been  giving  out  for  a  long  time 
and  would  like  to  stop  for  a  moment  to  take  in.  But  no  one 
felt  it  could  be  true  that  he  was  in  such  need.  If  his  health  had 
suffered  under  the  long,  heavy,  and  incessant  strain,  it  was  not 
apparent.  There  was  no  diminution  in  his  seemingly  boundless 
vitality.  His  very  presence  had  power  to  carry  happiness  to 
hearts  that  were  heavy.  "It  was  a  dull,  rainy  day,  when  things 
looked  dark  and  lowering,  but  Phillips  Brooks  came  down  News- 
paper Row  and  all  was  bright," — was  one  of  the  items  in  a  Boston 
paper. 

The  plan  for  the  year  abroad  included  a  sojourn  in  Germany, 
India,  and  England,  giving  some  three  months  to  each  country; 
and  also  a  short  tour  in  Spain,  to  glance  at  its  monuments  and 
churches.  It  was  a  plan  for  study,  but  from  life  as  well  as  from 
books, — to  know  for  himself,  by  personal  inquiry  and  observa- 

372 


THE  YEAR  ABROAD  373 

tion,  how  the  world  was  thinking  and  living.     He  found  it  hard 
at  first  to  realize  that  he  had  a  long  year  before  him. 

"And  so  the  year  of  wandering  has  begun.  It  is  not  easy  yet  to 
realize  that  it  is  more  than  a  mere  summer's  journey,  but  every 
now  and  then  it  comes  over  me  that  the  gap  is  to  be  so  great  that 
the  future,  if  there  is  any,  will  certainly  be  something  different 
in  some  way  from  the  past.  I  don't  regret  that,  for,  pleasant  as 
all  these  past  years  have  been,  they  don't  look  very  satisfactory 
as  one  reviews  them;  and,  although  I  am  inclined  to  put  a  higher 
value  on  their  results  than  anybody  else  would  be  likely  to  do, 
they  have  not  certainly  accomplished  much.  I  should  like  to 
think  that  the  years  that  remain,  when  I  get  home,  would  be 
more  useful.  There  is  surely  coming,  and  it  has  partly  come,  a 
better  Christian  Day  than  any  that  we  or  our  fathers  for  many 
generations  have  seen.  One  would  like  to  feel  before  he  dies  that 
he  has  made  some  little  bit  of  contribution  to  it." 

He  was  accompanied  by  friends  on  the  voyage,  and,  during  the 
earlier  part  of  his  journey,  among  them  Mr.  Richardson  the 
architect,  with  whom  he  had  proposed  to  visit  southern  France 
and  Spain.  "Architecture  under  these  circumstances  must  be 
the  main  interest,"  he  writes,  but  "art,  life,  and  scenery  shall 
not  be  forgotten."  The  journey  included  Provence,  with  its 
wealth  of  old  Roman  remains,  Genoa,  Leghorn,  Pisa,  Florence, 
Bologna,  Ravenna,  and  then  Venice.  "I  think  that  I  enjoyed 
the  re-seeing  of  old  places  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  much  as  the 
discovery  of  new  ones.  The  deepening  and  filling  out  of  old 
impressions  is  very  delightful."  At  Venice  the  party  began  to 
break  up.     From  Paris  he  wrote  of  his  journey: 

"The  summer  is  over,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  good  it  has 
been.  We  went  down  almost  to  the  gates  of  Rome,  and  saw  the 
beauty  of  northern  Italy,  at  its  most  beautiful.  My  eyes  swim 
with  light  and  color  now.  We  went  also  into  southern  France 
and  saw  a  great  deal  of  soberer  beauty, — quiet  old  towns,  and 
queer,  quaint  churches,  and  kind,  dirty  people.  Richardson 
was  with  us  till  we  reached  Milan,  and  then  went  off  into  Spain, 
where  he  is  now.  You  should  have  seen  the  man  in  Venice! 
The  wonder  is  that  any  gondola  could  hold  such  enthusiasm  and 
energy,  or  that  he  ever,  having  once  got  there,  came  away. 
.  .  .  You  will  find  him  glowing  with  splendid  projects  for 
Trinity.  A  front  porch,  a  chapter  house,  and  the  great  piers 
to  be  covered  from  top  to  bottom  with  mosaics.     You  will  listen 


374  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

with  interest,  and  dream  as  I  do  of  how  more  and  more  beautiful 
the  dear  old  church  may  be  made  from  generation  to  generation." 

While  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Germany  and  India  he  wrote  a  large 
number  of  letters,  many  of  them  long,  in  which  he  gives  expres- 
sion to  his  thought  and  feeling  in  an  unwonted  degree.  In  his 
separation  from  home  and  friends  he  felt  the  necessity  of  letter- 
writing  for  his  own  satisfaction.  Not  since  he  was  at  the  semi- 
nary in  Alexandria  do  we  get  such  a  complete  picture  of  the  man. 
Some  of  these  letters,  but  mostly  those  of  a  lighter  character, 
have  been  included  in  his  Letters  of  Travel.  Even  these,  how- 
ever, are  characteristic  in  their  quality.  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes  said  that  only  after  reading  them  did  he  feel  that  he  knew 
the  man.  While  he  was  away  he  carried  the  interests  of  his  life 
close  to  his  heart, — Trinity  Church,  the  Clericus  Club,  the  house- 
holds of  his  friends,  and  the  varying  phases  of  ecclesiastical  life. 
His  friends  charged  themselves  with  the  duty  of  writing  to  him 
often,  so  that  he  could  easily  follow  the  course  of  events.  So 
voluminous  is  the  correspondence  and  other  material  during  this 
year  abroad  that  it  would  require  a  considerable  volume  to  con- 
tain it.     Only  a  small  fraction  can  be  given  here. 

On  August  28,  1882,  he  writes: 

"After  three  pleasant  days  together  in  Paris,  they  have  gone 
this  morning,  and  I  am  all  alone.  It  has  been  a  delightful  sum- 
mer, and  now  I  feel  as  if  my  work  began.  A  week  from  to-day 
I  hope  to  reach  Berlin,  where  I  shall  stay  for  some  time.  I  am 
very  anxious  to  study,  and  the  prospect  of  unlimited  time  for 
reading  opens  most  attractively.  I  do  not  feel  as  if  it  were  a 
waste  of  time,  or  mere  self-indulgence,  for  all  my  thought  about 
the  work  which  I  have  done  for  the  last  twenty  years,  while 
it  is  very  pleasant  to  remember,  makes  it  seem  very  superficial 
and  incomplete.  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  make  what  remains 
any  better,  but  I  am  very  glad  indeed  of  the  opportunity  to  try." 

To  a  member  of  the  Clericus  Club,  Rev.  Percy  Browne,  he 
commends  its  interests  while  he  is  away: 

"You  won't  let  the  Club  flag  this  winter,  will  you?  It  seems 
to  me  that  we  all  owe  so  much  to  it;  and  while  we  have  grown 
used  to  it  and  don't  think  so  much  about  it  as  we  used  to,  it  has 
never  been  better  than  in  these  last  years.  .  .  .  You  don't  know 
how  pleasant  the  old  life  looks  from  this  distance,  when  one  un- 


GERMANY  375 

derstands  that  he  is  to  get  nothing  of  it  for  a  year.  What  good 
times  we  have  had !  and  how  few  the  dull  and  disagreeable  spots 
have  been!" 

Early  in  September  Mr.  Brooks  had  reached  Berlin,  taking  up 
his  residence  there  for  some  two  months,  but  in  the  meantime 
visiting  other  university  towns,  Giessen,  Leipsic,  and  Heidelberg. 
These  are  hints  of  how  he  passed  his  days: 

"I  am  going  out  to  dine  at  Wansee  (which  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
Berlin  Brookline)  with  Baron  von  der  Heydt,  who  is  going  to 
have  some  of  the  Court  preachers  to  meet  me.  A  good  many 
other  people  have  called  on  me,  and  talked  about  German  things 
and  people;  so  that  I  see  all  I  want  to  see  of  folks,  and  the  days 
are  only  too  short.  Unfortunately,  the  university  is  closed,  and 
the  professors  are  all  off  on  vacations,  so  that  I  miss  many  men 
whom  I  should  like  to  see. 

"I  get  up  in  the  morning  and  breakfast  at  eight  o'clock;  then 
I  go  to  my  room,  which  is  very  bright  and  pleasant,  where  I  have 
a  lot  of  books  and  a  good  table,  at  which  I  am  writing  now.  Here 
I  stay  until  eleven  or  twelve,  reading  and  studying,  mostly  Ger- 
man; then  I  go  out,  see  a  sight  or  two,  and  make  calls  until  it  is 
two  o'clock.  Then  I  go  to  Dr.  Seidel,  my  teacher,  and  take  a 
lesson,  reading  German  with  him  for  two  hours.  Then  it  is  din- 
ner time,  for  everybody  in  Berlin  dines  very  early.  They  have 
North  Andover  fashions  here.  Four  o'clock  is  the  table  d'hote 
time  at  our  hotel,  and  that  is  rather  late.  After  dinner  I  get 
about  two  hours  more  of  reading  in  my  room,  and  when  it  is  dark 
I  go  out  and  call  on  somebody,  or  find  some  interesting  public 
place  until  bedtime.     Is  not  that  a  quiet,  regular  life? 

"This  week  I  have  been  like  a  college  student,  going  to  hear 
what  the  great  men  have  to  say  about  theology  and  other  things. 
I  have  German  enough  now  to  follow  a  lecture  quite  satisfactorily, 
and  you  do  not  know  how  I  enjoy  it.  Of  course  I  have  not  taken 
up  any  systematic  course  of  attendance.  My  time  is  too  short 
for  that.  I  only  roam  round  and  pick  up  what  I  can  and  fill  it 
out  with  reading  from  the  books  of  the  same  men,  a  good  many 
of  which  I  have.  There  are  four  thousand  other  students  here  in 
Berlin,  so  that  one  can  go  and  come  in  the  great  university  quite 
as  he  pleases,  and  be  entirely  unnoticed.  .  .  .  The  thoroughness 
of  these  real  scholars  makes  me  feel  awfully  superficial  and 
ashamed." 

To  the  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks  he  writes  more  fully  of  what  he  is 
doing.     He  had  been  greatly  impressed  by  reading  Lotze : 


376  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"On  the  whole  I  have  been  as  successful  in  carrying  out  my 
rather  vague  plans  as  I  could  anyway  have  hoped.  I  have 
found  people  everywhere  most  accessible,  and  although  very  few 
of  the  theologians  speak  English  they  mostly  understand  it,  and 
the  study  I  have  had  here  makes  their  German  quite  intelligible. 
Both  in  such  lectures  as  I  have  heard  here  in  the  last  week  and  in 
the  conversations  which  I  have  had  with  men  in  various  places 
I  have  found  no  real  difficulty.  In  Halle  and  Heidelberg  and 
Leipsic  I  have  found  interesting  people  and  got  pretty  good  ideas 
of  what  theologians  were  at.  A  thoroughness  of  exegesis  which 
is  beautiful,  and  an  inquiry  into  the  Old  Testament  history  which 
makes  it  very  living,  and  a  rearrangement  of  dogmatic  statements 
in  philosophical  systems — these  are  their  great  works.  The 
books  which  I  have  read  with  considerable  struggle  are  the  new 
Life  of  Jesus  by  Weiss,  of  Berlin;  the  Life  of  Luther  by  Kostlin, 
whom  I  saw  at  Halle,  which  is  the  last  great  work  on  the  Refor- 
mation; the  Christian  Belief  and  Morals  of  Pfleiderer,  of  Berlin; 
and,  above  all,  the  lectures  of  Hermann  Lotze  on  the  Philosophy 
of  Religion  and  on  the  Foundations  of  Practical  Philosophy. 
Then  I  have  dipped  into  Schleiermacher,  of  whom  I  knew  noth- 
ing before.  But  Lotze  is  the  most  interesting  of  men.  I  wish 
you  would  get  somebody  to  translate  his  Grundziige  der  Re- 
ligions philosophic, — somebody  who  knows  German  well,  It  is  a 
little  book,  the  mere  notes  of  one  of  his  students  from  his  lectures, 
which  has  been  published  this  year  in  Leipsic.  If  I  knew  enough 
German  to  be  quite  sure  that  I  was  n't  making  him  say  just  what 
he  did  n't  mean  to  I  would  translate  some  of  it  myself,  for  it  is 
full  of  as  rich  sound  meat  as  any  book  I  ever  read,  and  with  my 
poor  German  knowledge  I  know  I  have  got  at  the  gist  of  it. 
The  way  that  people  speak  of  him  here  is  very  impressive.  I 
have  heard  one  or  two  lectures  from  his  successor  Zeller,  who  is 
also  an  interesting  man.  It  is  the  jolliest  thing,  this  university. 
There  it  stands  wide  open  and  anybody  can  go  into  any  lecture 
that  he  chooses.  I  have  heard  Dillman  and  Weiss  and  Pfleiderer, 
who  are  the  best  of  the  theological  people  here  except  Dorner, 
who  is  the  Nestor  of  their  faculty,  but  is  now  very  ill  and  off  at 
Baden-Baden.  The  city  preachers,  of  whom  I  have  seen  several, 
seem  to  be  very  earnest  but  not  very  inspiring  men.  On  the 
whole  I  feel  as  if  there  were  not  in  Germany  just  the  type  of  man 
whom  we  have  in  England  and  America, — the  really  spiritual 
rationalist  or  broad  Churchman,  the  Maurice  or  the  Washburn. 
Their  positive  men  are  dogmatists  and  their  rationalists  are 
negative.  Such  men  there  must  be  somewhere, — successors  of 
Schleiermacher  on  his  best  side, — but  nobody  seems  to  be  able 
to  point  them  out,  and  except  in  vague  and  casual  approaches 
I  have  failed  to  find  them.  Outside  of  theology  I  have  made 
some  very  pleasant  acquaintances.     I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of 


GERMANY  377 

Baron  von  Bunsen  and  his  family.  He  is  the  son  of  the  Bunsen 
of  many  books,  the  Chevalier,  and  is  a  very  charming  man,  and 
his  house  is  always  full  of  pleasant  people." 

While  Phillips  Brooks  was  in  Germany  he  appears  to  be  en- 
gaged in  a  review  of  his  life  and  experience.  He  attempts  to 
draw  out  in  order  and  connection  those  personal  convictions 
about  religious  truth  which  had  slowly  and  separately  taken 
shape  in  his  mind.  His  mind  assumes  a  devotional  tone  in  deal- 
ing with  theological  problems, — about  God  and  revelation,  Christ, 
the  miracle,  the  Bible,  the  moral  life,  personality,  the  Church, 
death,  eternity.  In  a  beautiful  and  somewhat  elaborate  paper 
he  develops  each  of  these  ideas,  but  in  a  poetic  rather  than  schol- 
astic vein.1 

The  undercurrent  of  his  life  was  religious.  Natural  scenery, 
art,  architecture,  historical  monuments  and  inscriptions,  every- 
thing relating  to  famous  men,  the  customs  and  manners  of  people, 
the  course  of  ordinary  life — in  these  he  was  deeply  interested. 
But  beneath  them  all  he  was  seeking  for  the  spiritual  meaning 
of  human  existence.  He  took  the  opportunity  which  his  leisure 
gave  him  to  study  the  life  of  Luther,  visiting  every  spot  connected 
with  his  career.  He  made  himself  the  possessor  of  the  original 
editions  of  the  great  Reformer's  writings,  surprised  to  find  that 
they  could  be  bought  so  cheaply.  Next  to  Luther  in  his  admira- 
tion stood  Goethe.  He  studied  the  Second  Part  of  Faust,  and 
witnessed  an  attempt  to  reproduce  it  in  the  theatre,  which  he 
pronounces  a  failure.  He  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  Lessing, 
making  a  study  of  that  most  suggestive  work,  Die  Erziehung  des 
Menschengeschlechts,  and  writing  out  in  his  note-book  an  abstract 
of  each  one  of  its  paragraphs.  Much  of  his  time  was  given  to 
writing  in  his  note-book  the  thoughts  or  the  impressions  he  was 
receiving.  Not  for  many  years  had  he  done  such  systematic 
work  in  recording  what  had  passed  through  his  mind.  Every- 
where interspersed  are  texts  and  suggestions  for  sermons : 

"The  lateral  and  terminal  moraine. — that  refuse  of  miscon- 
ception, superstition,  etc.,  which  an  old  institution  or  faith  throws 
off  on  its  sides  as  it  moves  while  it  is  still  living,  and  that  which 
it  leaves  as  refuse  at  the  end  after  it  has  exhausted  itself  and 
perished." 

•  For  this  paper  see  Life  of  Phillips  Brooks,  first  ed.  vol.  ii.,  pp.  472-483. 


378  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"The  sad  story  of  the  earnest  minister  who  went  to  give  himself 
to  study  so  that  he  might  be  more  useful.  And  as  he  learned 
more  and  more  his  faith  more  and  more  decayed,  until  at  last  he 
was  a  learned  skeptic,  and  knew  himself  that  he  had  destroyed 
the  vessel  in  filling  it  with  its  true  wine." 

"Apropos  of  Savonarola, — it  is  not  always  the  strongest  spirits 
of  a  time  who  are  most  free  from  its  superstitions.  The  illustra- 
tions in  one's  own  time." 

" '  Show  Thy  servants  Thy  work  and  their  children  Thy  glory,' 
Psalm  xc.  1 6  (Prayer  Book  version).  One  generation  doing  a 
piece  of  the  work  of  God,  and  the  next  generation  seeing  how 
splendid  it  is." 

"'Lord,  not  my  feet  only,  but  also  my  hands  and  my  head.' 
The  answer  of  Christ.  The  cry  of  dissatisfied  men  who  only  need 
more  impulse  and  'go'  for  a  complete  change  of  thoughts  and 
principles ;  when  what  they  want  is  only  to  put  to  use  more 
conscientiously  and  vigorously  what  they  have." 

"The  figure  of  the  'stream'  of  time  (or  life)  is  true  not  only  in 
other  respects  but  also  in  this,  that  it  expresses  the  constant 
change  along  with  constant  identity  which  life  possesses." 

"  'A  little  while  and  ye  shall  not  see  me,  and  again  a  little  while 
and  ye  shall  see  me.'  Text  for  sermon  on  the  passage  through 
darkened  periods  of  life  and  faith." 

"Lessing's  Der  Junge  Gelehrte  must  be  more  than  an  amazing 
farce.  In  it  we  certainly  can  see  two  things,  one  temporary  and 
local,  the  other  universal  and  eternal.  The  universal  teaching  is 
that  mere  pedantry  is  not  true  learning,  and  that  life,  no  less  than 
books,  has  lessons  for  the  learning  man.  The  local  application 
must  be  to  a  state  of  Germany  in  his  time,  when  the  studying 
people,  filled  with  the  new  enthusiasm  of  study,  were  often  using 
it  foolishly,  as  if  it  were  a  valuable  and  noble  thing  for  its  own 
sake, — the  crude  condition  of  the  ordinary  German  student  in 
those  days,  of  which  we  see  many  signs." 

"In  all  this  travelling  one  is  overcome  and  oppressed  with  the 
multiplicity  of  life.  The  single  point  where  we  stand  is  so 
small,  yet  it  is  the  best  and  dearest  of  all.  I  would  not  for  the 
world  be  anything  but  this,  if  I  must  cease  being  this  in  order  to 
be  that  other  thing.  But  I  would  fain  also  be  these  other  things 
— these  college  students,  these  soldiers  in  their  barracks,  these 
children  playing  round  the  old  fountain,  these  actors  on  their 


GERMANY  379 

stages,  these  merchants  in  their  shops,  these  peasant  women  at 
their  toil,  these  fine  ladies  with  their  beauty;  I  want  somehow, 
somewhere,  to  be  them  all;  and  the  simplicity,  the  singleness  of 
my  own  life,  with  its  appointed  place  and  limits,  comes  over  me 
oppressively.  Where  is  the  outlook  and  the  outlet?  Must  it 
not  be  in  the  possibility,  which  is  not  denied  to  any  of  us,  of  get- 
ting some  conception  of  life  which  is  large  enough  to  include  and 
comprehend  all  these  and  every  other  form  in  which  men  live,  or 
have  lived,  or  will  live  forever?  And  is  not  such  a  conception  to 
be  found  in  Christ's  large  truth  of  God  the  Father?  0,  to 
preach  or  hear  some  day  a  worthy  sermon  on  'In  Him  we  live 
and  move  and  have  our  being. ' !" 

"The  present  condition  of  our  churches  is  something  like  an 
orchestra  tuning  up.  Each  instrument  trying  itself  altogether  by 
itself.  Some  time  they  must  all  strike  in  together  and  the  great 
Symphony  begin.  The  high  unselfishness  of  the  instruments  in 
an  orchestral  piece. " 

"Text:  'Sacrifice  and  meat  offering  Thou  wouldst  not,  but 
my  ears  hast  Thou  opened.'  Ps.  xl.,  8.  Sermon  on  God's  love 
for  intelligent  worship  and  for  a  desire  after  the  truth  upon  His 
people's   part. 

"Text:  'This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even 
our  faith. '  The  absolute  creed  that  only  by  belief  in  something 
higher  should  man  master  the  lower.  Oh,  the  necessity  of  loving 
purity  and  great  thoughts  about  great  things,  not  merely  being 
driven  to  them.  Thus  the  child's  salvation  from  brutal  vice  and 
infidel  cynicism.  Point  also  to  the  men  who  are  overcome  by  the 
world  for  want  of  faith. 

"In  connection  with  the  above  think  of  the  great  danger  of 
abolishing  that  for  which  we  give  no  substitute.  Sometimes  it 
must  be  done,  and  the  development  or  discovery  of  the  substitute 
must  be  left  to  wisdom  and  power  greater  than  ours,  but  there  is 
always  terrible  danger. 

"We  in  America  have  no  complete  substitute  for  the  military 
training  which  we  rejoice  to  be  free  from.  The  mercantile 
rivalry  is  not  a  substitute.  It  lacks  the  possible  self-devotion  and 
nobleness." 

"Text:  'The  Son  of  Man  cometh  like  a  thief  in  the  night' 
watch  therefore.'  The  whole  subject  of  suddenness;  nothing  is 
sudden,  and  yet  everything  is  sudden.  The  value  of  the  know- 
ledge of  this  in  bringing  about  the  true  poise  of  temperament. 


38o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Expectation  without  terror,  a  sense  of  naturalness  and  wonder 
together." 

"Luther's  protest  in  behalf  of  freedom  was  indeed  the  opening 
of  a  new  world,  but  its  real  value  was  measured  by  the  worth 
of  the  positive  authority  to  which  he  appealed.  Darwin's  pro- 
test against  the  crudeness  of  popular  creationism  must  be  his 
real  claim  to  remembrance  in  spite  of  his  saying  '  Science  has 
nothing  to  do  with  Christ.'  It  may  perhaps  turn  out  after  all 
that  science  has  wiser  teachers  than  the  great  scientist  knew, 
that  Christ's  truth  of  the  Father  Life  of  God  has  the  most  inti- 
mate connection  with  Darwin's  doctrine  of  development,  which 
is  simply  the  continual  indwelling  and  action  of  creative  power." 

"Some  people  seem  to  have  almost  exactly  the  influence  of 
Music.  It  is  an  inarticulate  influence.  It  does  not  communicate 
ideas,  but  it  creates  moods.  It  is  incapable  of  analysis.  Men 
ask  you  to  give  an  account  of  these  people's  power  over  you, 
and  you  cannot.  You  tell  your  story  and  the  listener  asks,  'Is 
that  all?'  and  wonders  at  your  delusion.  All  that  you  can  do  is 
to  say,  'Come  and  see"  as  after  vainly  trying  to  describe  the 
power  of  a  piece  of  music  you  take  your  friend  to  hear  it.  All 
influence  of  man  over  man,  however  rich  it  may  be  in  the  im- 
parting of  ideas  and  the  awakening  of  the  moral  sense,  seems  to 
be  incomplete  unless  there  is  in  it  something  of  this  musical 
power  of  creating  moods." 

"Stein  had  great  contempt  for  what  he  called  metapoliticians , 
who  are,  as  Seeley  in  his  Life  of  Stein  defines  it,  '  those  who  stand 
in  the  same  relation  to  politicians  as  metaphysicians  to  the 
students  of  nature.'  The  same  feeling  which  crudely  and  coarsely 
breaks  out  in  our  time  against  the  'scholar  in  politics,'  those 
'damned  literary  fellows.'  There  are  reason  and  unreason  in  it 
both.  " 

"Text:  'Sir,  thou  hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the  well  is 
deep.'  Spoken  in  perfect  honesty.  A  naive  expression  of  the 
worldly  man's  sense  of  the  difficulty  of  life  and  of  the  inadequate 
equipment  of  merely  spiritual  natures  to  cope  with  it.  " 

"The  beasts  in  a  zoological  garden  always  trying  to  get  out; 
their  pathetic,  brutal  inability  to  be  convinced  that  it  is  hopeless. 
You  came  back  after  years,  and  there  is  that  same  bear  walking 
up  and  down  just  as  you  left  him,  trying  the  same  bars,  and 
never  giving  up  the  hope  that  somewhere  he  may  find  a  gap.  It 
is  the  dim  memory  of  savage  free  life — nay,  see  how  even  the 
beasts  born  in  captivity,  who  have  never  known  by  experience  the 


GERMANY  381 

freedom  of  the  desert,  they  too  are  at  the  same  endless  undis- 
couraged  effort  to  escape. 

"Apply  to  man's  everlasting  working  away  at  the  problems  of 
existence." 

"The  Ten  Commandments  based  on  the  idea  of  liberty, — 
'Thus  spake  Jehovah  who  brought  you  out  of  the  house  of 
bondage,'  and  issuing  in  the  injunctions  of  duty  and  righteous- 
ness, 'Thou  shalt  and  thou  shalt  not';  so  Liberty  and  Duty 
lie  together  here." 

"We  are  not  called  upon  to  set  in  opposition  the  two  great 
conceptions  of  the  results  of  conduct,  one  of  which  thinks  of  them 
as  inevitable  consequences  naturally  produced,  and  the  other  as 
the  rewards  and  punishments  meted  out  by  the  superior  insight 
and  justice  of  a  ruling  Lord.  Each  conception  has  its  value, 
which  we  cannot  afford  to  lose  in  seeking  for  the  total  truth. 
The  first  gives  reasonableness  and  reliability  to  the  whole  idea. 
The  second  preserves  the  vividness  of  personality.  The  time  was 
when  the  second  conception  monopolized  men's  thought.  In 
the  present  strong  reaction  from  the  second  to  the  first  concep- 
tion it  would  be  a  great  loss  if  we  let  the  second  be  denied  or  fade 
into  forgetfulness." 

"I  read  in  a  religious  paper,  'Nothing  short  of  this  can  differ- 
ence the  Gospel  from  any  other  ethical  system  in  kind.'  Do  we, 
then,  want  to  difference  the  Gospel  from  the  ethical  systems  of 
the  human  soul?  Is  the  impulse  which  makes  us  want  to  do  so 
the  highest  impulse  of  the  soul?  Is  there  not  yet  a  higher  and  a 
truer  impulse  whereby  we  may  rejoice  to  see  the  Gospel  sweep  into 
itself  all  of  man's  moral  effort,  and  prove  itself  the  highest  utter- 
ance of  Him  who  in  the  million  cravings  of  man  for  righteousness 
has  always  been,  is  always,  making  Himself  known?" 

"There  is  a  stronger  and  stronger  reluctance  to  have  religion 
treated  purely  as  a  regulative  force  for  conduct.  That  it  will 
surely  be,  but  that  it  will  be  most  surely  if  it  be  primarily  consid- 
ered as  the  power  of  a  higher  consciousness,  the  power  by  which 
the  soul  knows  itself  divine,  and  enters  into  conscious  communion 
with  God.  So,  if  I  could  do  what  I  would  like,  I  would  reveal 
the  power  of  religion  to  a  soul,  and  thus  it  should  arrive  at  lofty 
contempt  for  sin,  which  should  be  its  perpetual  safety  and 
strength.  And  is  not  this  the  real  thought  which  was  in  all  the 
ancient  talk  about  works  and  faith?" 

"The  banyan  tree,  dropping  its  supplementary  branches, 
which  take  root;  then  the  main  trunk  decaying,  and  the  tree 


382  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

supported  by  these  secondary  supports.    So  of  institutions  and 
doctrines,  and  their  history  and  first  evidences." 

In  addition  to  his  letters  and  the  note-book  from  which  these 
extracts  are  taken,  Mr.  Brooks  kept  a  somewhat  voluminous 
journal  where  he  records  his  impressions  of  travel.  By  its  aid 
we  may  follow  him  in  his  wanderings  from  place  to  place.  Many 
of  the  entries  are  criticisms  on  paintings  and  works  of  art.  In 
modern  German  artistic  manufactures  he  found  heaviness  and 
lack  of  inspiration : 

'"Go  to,  now,  and  let  us  make  our  furniture  beautiful,'  they 
have  said,  and  the  result  is  what  we  might  have  expected.  The 
old  German  work  is  delightful  because  it  is  unconscious  and 
quaint,  very  little  of  intrinsic  or  eternal  beauty  in  it.  Take  the 
unconsciousness  away  and  let  the  race  try  to  be  beautiful,  and 
they  fail  just  where  the  Greeks,  whom  they  seem  to  worship 
with  a  sort  of  despairing  adoration,  so  wonderfully  succeeded. 

He  comments  on  the  picture  of  George  Gisze,  the  merchant, 
by  the  younger  Holbein,  in  the  Museum: 

"It  is  a  picture  perfect  in  its  kind,  of  the  best  sort  of  northern 
life  and  mercantile  character.  No  southerner,  no  dealer  with 
the  abstract  as  the  business  of  his  life,  ever  looked  like  that.  He 
knew  affairs.  The  lovely  green  wall,  before  which  he  sits,  is  cov- 
ered with  the  apparatus  of  concrete  concerns.  He  writes  and 
receives  letters,  which  are  what  fasten  men  to  common,  present 
things.  And  yet  he  thinks.  Those  eyes  look  beyond  his  ledgers. 
And  he  has  suffered.  Not  idly  is  his  motto  written  on  the  wall, 
'Nulla  sine  merito  voluptas.'" 

"Berlin,  Saturday,  September  23,  1882. 
"  I  leave  Berlin  to-day  after  a  little  over  two  weeks'  visit.  The 
people  impress  me  not  wholly  pleasantly.  The  enormous  power 
of  the  army  overshadows  everything.  Great  commercial  activity 
is  everywhere.  Social  life  is  generous  and  free,  and  in  its  best 
specimens  unsurpassed  doubtless  in  all  the  world,  but  in  its  ordi- 
nary aspects  it  is  crude  and  rude.  A  coarse  personality  is  every- 
where, and  through  the  whole  community  there  runs  a  certain 
restlessness  and  fear,  a  disappointment  that  the  nation  has  not 
won,  out  of  the  wonderful  success  of  1870,  the  advantages  which 
were  so  confidently  looked  for;  a  sense  of  constant  pressure  from 
without,  the  two  great  neighbors,  France  and  Russia,  never  being 
forgotten  for  a  moment,  and  a  sense  of  watchful  surveillance 


GERMANY  383 

within,   which  makes   liberty   a   partial   and  always  precarious 
possession." 

Wherever  he  went  in  Germany  he  thought  of  Luther  and  took 
delight  in  following  his  traces. 

"Wittenberg,  Sunday,  September  24,  1882. 
"A  delightful  Luther  Sunday.  In  the  morning  at  eight  to  his 
old  parish  church,  where  a  dull  sermon  wearied  a  quite  numerous 
congregation.  The  singing  was  good,  and  all  the  time  there  was 
the  association  of  his  having  preached  there,  and  of  this  having 
been  the  place  where  first,  in  1522,  the  communion  in  both  kinds 
was  given  to  the  laity.  How  formal  an  event  it  sounds,  and  how 
essential  it  really  is.  The  standing  of  the  people  while  the  text 
is  read  is  very  good.  The  Augustinian  Convent,  with  the  great 
Reformer's  rooms,  is  a  perfect  monument.  And  that  strange 
wife  of  his,  who  is  said  to  have  been  so  pretty,  and  looks  so  ugly 
in  all  the  pictures,  gives  a  homely  reality  to  it  all.  His  little 
fourteen-year-old  girl's  picture,  hanging  in  the  chamber  where  he 
died,  is  very  pretty.  .  .  ." 

"Halle,  Monday,  September  25,  1882. 
"The  University  is  here,  and  Francke's  Institute.  The  latter 
is  enormous,  and  seems  as  if  it  must  be  very  difficult  to  guard 
from  false  developments,  and  perhaps  also  from  corruption.  But 
its  look  of  simplicity  is  very  charming.  One  is  ready  very  seriously 
and  literally  to  ask  who  has  left  a  more  enviable  name  in  the 
world  than  Francke.  I  saw  the  very  curious  and  interesting 
cast  from  Luther's  face  after  death,  which  is  made  into  a  sitting 
statue,  and,  with  his  own  Bible  before  him,  sits  at  a  window  and 
looks  into  the  market." 

"Weimar,  Wednesday,  September  27,  1882. 
"The  poetic  character  of  this  town,  with  its  long  worship  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller,  has  something  artificial,  an  eighteenth  cen- 
tury look  about  it,  but  very  pretty,  and  the  town  suits  it  per- 
fectly. It  is  like  a  very  well  kept  room  of  an  unforgotten  but 
dead  friend.  One  can  see  Goethe  going  in  and  out  of  Herder's 
door,  and  the  park  all  about  the  town  is  a  beautiful  setting  for  it. 
And  Luther  preached  here  in  the  Stadt  Kirche,  they  say,  on  his 
way  to  Worms.  ..." 

"  Weimar  and  Gotha,  September  28,  1882. 
"Of  all  the  pretty  Thuringian  towns  there  seem  to  be  none  so 
pretty  as  these  two.     Weimar  is  a  monumental  town.     It  is  a 
sort  of  German  Concord,  with  most  characteristic  differences.  .  .  . 


384  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

The  Odyssey  frescoes  of  Preller  are  models  of  their  kind  of  deco- 
rative art.  The  pale  and  quiet  colors  keep  the  dreamlike  vague- 
ness and  distance  of  the  whole  story.  No  one  can  help  being 
interested,  but  no  one  can  become  anxious  or  excited  over  the 
doings  or  the  fate  of  these  far-away  people.  It  is  as  if  the  trans- 
parent veil  of  twenty-five  centuries  were  between  them  and  us. 
Then,  in  the  Bibliotek,  you  come  to  the  startling  reality  of  Luther's 
coarse  and  ragged  cloak  which  he  wore  when  he  was  an  Augus- 
tinian  monk  at  Erfurt." 

"Frankfort,  Sunday,  October  i,  1882. 
"There  must  have  been  something  in  the  early  Reformation 
times  which  tended  to  bring  out  the  best  German  character. 
Luther  is  constantly  interesting.  It  must  have  been  partly  the 
fresh  sense  of  discovery  and  the  feeling  of  an  opening  future, 
which  is  always  suited  to  the  German  mind,  and  inspires  it  to  its 
best.  It  may  also  have  been  the  presence  of  conflict,  which  the 
German  also  loves.  But,  whatever  it  was,  it  has  strangely  disap- 
peared. Modern  German  Protestantism  is  the  driest  thing.  It 
seems  to  have  had  no  power  to  develop  any  poetry  or  richness. 
At  present  it  seems  to  be  ground  between  the  upper  millstone  of 
a  military  state  and  the  lower  millstone  of  the  learned  universi- 
ties. It  was  almost  a  relief  to  be  again  in  the  Catholic  worship 
in  the  Cathedral  here  this  morning." 

"Heidelberg,  Tuesday,  October  10,  1882. 
".  .  .  In  the  early  evening  on  the  great  terrace,  where  after 
all  is  the  finest  point  of  view.     I  watched  the  lights  gradually 
kindling  in  the  darkening  town,  and  thought  of  the  Reformation 
breaking  out  at  point  after  point  in  Europe.  ..." 

"Leipsic,  Thursday,  October  19,  1882. 
"The  religious  question  in  Germany  has  suffered  from  that 
fate,  which  always  is  disastrous  to  it,  of  being  made  a  political 
question.  But  leaving  aside  those  whose  whole  interest  in  the 
question  is  to  be  explained  on  political  grounds,  there  remain 
certain  clearly  recognizable  classes:  First,  the  Virchows  and 
Haeckels,  the  simply  naturalistic  people,  whose  hatred  to  church 
and  religion  is  something  quite  unknown  among  us.  Second, 
the  opposite  extreme,  the  dogmatic  churchmen,  whose  whole 
theological  position  is  retroactive  and  obstructive.  Third,  the 
liberal  church  party,  who  esteem  the  church  purely  for  its  social 
and  police  value,  and  take  little  or  no  interest  in  its  missionary 
aspects.  Such  are  some  of  the  rationalistic  preachers.  Fourth, 
there  is  not  clearly  shaped  nor  very  prominent  a  school  of 
thoughtful,  earnest,  and  enlightened  men,  to  whom  the  real 


GERMANY  385 

future  of  Christianity  in  Germany  belongs,  the  men  of  reasonable 
faith  like  Lotze." 

"Berlin,  Friday,  October  27,  1882. 
"A  visit  to  Dr.  Hermann  Grimm,  the  author  of  the  Life  of 
Michael  Angelo,  Life  of  Goethe,  etc.,  translator  of  some  small 
parts  of  Emerson,  lecturer  on  art  in  the  university.  The  picture 
which,  from  his  point  of  view,  he  gives  of  religion  in  Germany, 
and  the  way  in  which  it  has  affected  his  whole  feeling  about  relig- 
ion, is  most  interesting.  He  speaks  of  all  that  goes  on  in  the 
churches  as  something  that  does  not  appeal  to  him  in  any  way, 
and  so  he  never  goes  to  church.  He  claims  that  there  are  no 
men  who  are  what  Schleiermacher  seems  to  have  been,  distinct 
both  from  the  dogmatists  on  one  side,  and  from  the  equally  acid 
rationalists  upon  the  other.  And  certainly  I  myself  have  failed 
to  find  any  such  either  in  personal  intercourse  or  in  reading  con- 
temporary books.  Professor  Grimm  then  curiously  talked  of  a 
certain  power  which  distinctly  belonged,  he  said,  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  ceremonial,  and  made  many  educated  men  feel  it  as  they 
felt  nothing  in  Protestantism.  It  was  historical  and  it  was  self- 
possessed.  The  priest  at  the  altar,  with  a  certain  disregard  of  the 
people,  busied  himself  directly  with  God.  He  did  not  attempt 
to  teach  what  is  unteachable,  but  he  stood  between  the  soul  and 
God,  and  in  some  vague  way  made  the  divine  present.  Strange 
enough,  surely,  to  find  a  man  like  Professor  Grimm  feeling  all 
this,  and  at  the  same  time  feeling  the  power  of  the  preaching  of 
Channing  and  of  Parker,  of  both  of  whom  he  spoke.  He  speaks 
hopelessly  of  religion  in  Germany,  but  surely  there  can  be  no 
room  for  despair  until  the  first  trial  of  a  voluntary  religion  shall 
be  made,  and  some  attempt  at  a  higher  priesthood  than  either 
the  Romanist's  or  Channing's  shall  be  seen." 

"Berlin,  Tuesday,  October  31,  18S2. 
"  It  is  very  interesting  indeed,  in  the  Dorotheen  Burial  Ground, 
to  see  the  two  quiet  simple  monuments  of  Fichte  and  Hegel  facing 
each  other  across  the  narrow  path,  which  was  all  wet  this  after- 
noon with  rain,  and  covered  with  dead  autumn  leaves  trodden 
into  the  ground." 

"Dresden,  Saturday,  November  4,  1882. 
"One  comes  back  to  the  sight  of  anything  which  he  has  seen  in 
his  mind's  eye,  so  long  as  he  has  seen  the  Dresden  Madonna,  with 
a  sort  of  fear  whether,  in  all  these  years,  the  memory  has  not 
been  deceived  by  the  imagination;  whether,  dreaming  of  the 
world's  most  perfect  picture,  his  dream  has  not  passed  into  a 
region  where  no  actual  power  of  human  art  can  follow  it,  and  so 
the  point  from  which  it  started  will  fail  to  satisfy  one  who  comes 
as 


386  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

back  to  it.  This  is  the  sort  of  question  which  is  in  one's  mind 
as  he  passes  through  the  curtained  doorway  which  leads  into  the 
shrine  of  the  great  picture.  And  he  finds  it  greater  than  his 
dream!  A  deeper  wonder  than  his  memory  has  been  able  to 
carry  is  in  the  Mother's  eyes.  The  Child  looks  into  a  distance 
farther  than  his  thoughts  have  run.  The  faint,  rich  heaven  of 
angel  faces  behind  the  scene  is  sweet  and  holy  beyond  any  con- 
ception which  his  senses  have  been  fine  enough  to  keep.  Before 
the  picture  begins  to  open  to  him  again  its  special  treasures  of 
detail,  it  blesses  him  with  this  renewed  knowledge  of  the  won- 
derful power  of  the  highest  art." 

"One  of  the  things  that  most  impresses  me  about  the  picture 
is  the  wonderful  life  that  is  in  it.  There  is  such  a  stillness  in  it 
that  it  hushes  the  room  in  which  it  hangs,  but  yet  it  is  all  alive. 
The  Virgin  is  moving  on  the  clouds.  Her  garments  float  both 
with  the  blowing  of  the  wind  and  also  with  her  motion.  Strangely 
different  it  is  in  this  respect  from  the  many  pictures  in  which  the 
Divine  Group  simply  stands  and  meditates,  or  gazes  from  the 
canvas.  The  nobleness  of  the  arrangement,  too,  is  most  impres- 
sive. Every  rule  of  highest  art  is  there,  but  swallowed  up  by  the 
sublime  intention  of  the  work.  The  pyramid  of  figures  has  built 
itself.  What,  one  wonders,  were  Raphael's  feelings  as  he  sent 
his  work  off  to  Piacenza?  Did  he  know  what  a  marvel  he  had 
done  ?  For  among  the  wonderful  things  about  this  picture  is  the 
immeasurable  degree  in  which  it  surpasses  everything  else  of 
Raphael's." 

"Vienna,  Monday,  November  13,  1882. 
"The  first  sight  of  Austria  to  one  who  comes  from  Germany  is 
full  of  suggested  contrasts.  The  people  in  Vienna  are  brighter 
and  handsomer  than  in  Berlin.  The  whole  movement  of  life  is 
gayer.  But  at  once  is  felt,  what  I  believe  all  later  observation 
will  confirm,  that  the  people  to  whom  we  have  come  are  not  the 
really  interesting  and  respectable  people  we  have  left.  Germany 
teems  with  ideas,  conceives  of  itself  as  having  a  mission  in  the 
world,  and  expects  a  future.  Neither  of  these  things  is  true  of 
Austria." 

"Vienna,  Wednesday,  November  15,  1882. 
"In  the  Belvedere  there  is  a  picture  of  St.  Catherine  of  Sienna, 
which,  if  the  story  of  that  very  unpleasing  person,  that  canoniza- 
tion of  hysterical  young  womanhood,  is  ever  to  be  put  in  paint 
at  all,  paints  it  aright.  It  is  hard  and  white,  but  there  is  a  real 
ecstasy  about  it,  the  ecstasy  of  intense,  distracting  pain.  It  is 
no  comfortable  damsel,  pluming  herself  on  the  romance  of  a 
celestial   lover,    and   enjoying    the   eclat   which  her   adventure 


GERMANY  387 

brought  her  among  her  earthly  friends  who  were  less  fortunate. 
It  is  the  eager,  straining,  yearning  after  a  mysterious  love  which 
is,  indeed,  more  than  life  to  her,  for  which  she  would  rejoice  to 
die,  nay,  for  which  she  is  dying  as  we  look  at  her.  She  does  not 
make  the  subject  pleasing  or  profitable,  but  at  least  it  gives  the 
only  ideality  of  which  it  is  capable." 

"Vienna,  Thursday,  November  16,  1882. 
"A  figure  carved  on  a  gem  such  as  are  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
great  collection  here  seems  to  have  reached  a  sort  of  apotheosis. 
It  floats  in  light.  When  it  receives  the  sunlight  through  it,  it 
seems  to  bathe  itself  in  the  luminous  color,  and  yet  to  keep  its 
own  brilliant  identity  and  shape,  to  be  a  brighter  and  distincter 
form  of  light  within  the  light  that  bathes  it.  Somewhat  as  we 
conceive  of  how  in  the  great  world  of  spirit  one  spirit,  while  it 
is  part  of  all  around  it,  has  its  own  special  personal  glory  inten- 
sified and  made  more  personal.  There  is  also  something  in  the 
sense  of  fineness  and  eternity  combined  with  the  brightness  and 
glory  of  a  gem  that  makes  it  beautiful  and  impressive  to  the 
imagination.  Size  is  nothing  except  to  connoisseurs.  There  is 
a  very  small  green  stone  down  in  the  corner  of  the  case  hung  in 
front  of  the  window  which  is  glorious." 

"Vienna,  Friday,  November  17,  1882. 
"  In  the  great  Treasury  there  is  what  seems  as  if  it  must  be  the 
most  glorious  opal  in  the  world.  It  is  as  large  as  a  small  pear, 
and  as  it  hangs  there  with  the  light  upon  it,  it  quivers  through 
and  through  with  fire.  The  flame  which  you  see  seems  not  to 
come  from  any  surface  lustre,  but  out  of  its  very  heart.  The 
mystery  of  it,  and  the  life  of  it,  every  one  must  feel.  Indeed, 
standing  before  the  whole  wonderful  collection  one  feels  very 
strongly  the  preciousness  of  precious  stones.  It  is  no  fanciful  or 
conventional  value,  but  something  which  springs  as  truly  from 
a  real  relation  to  human  nature,  though  on  another  side,  as  the 
value  of  a  beautiful  face  or  of  a  noble  thought.  It  does  not  de- 
pend on  rarity.  If  sapphires  like  that  which  tops  the  imperial 
crown  were  as  plentiful  as  are  gray  pebbles,  the  healthy  eye 
would  see  their  beauty  all  the  more,  not  less." 

"Vienna,  Wednesday,  November  22,  1882. 
"They  may  say  all  that  they  can  about  the  value  of  the  mili- 
tary discipline  in  Germany  and  Austria  as  a  school  for  raw  youths, 
and  we  ourselves  may  sometimes  fear  lest,  in  the  absence  of  any- 
thing corresponding  to  it  among  ourselves,  a  certain  tameness 
may  settle  down  upon  our  young  men's  life,  and  heroism  and 
obedience  to  authority  may  fail;  but,  after  all,  when  we  come  to 
speak  seriously  about  it,  words  cannot  express  the  privilege  we 


388  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

enjoy.  Of  course  its  danger  and  responsibilities  come  with  it. 
Its  dangers  are  those  to  which  I  just  alluded.  Its  responsibil- 
ities are  summed  up  in  the  duty  which  must  rest  upon  us  of  find- 
ing new  and  higher  cultures  for  the  virtue  which  the  army  does 
no  doubt  rudely  train,  and  of  developing  a  purer  and  loftier  social 
life  out  of  a  soil  which  is  not  cursed  and  exhausted  by  the  rank 
weed  of  military  life." 

"Venice,  Monday,  November  27,  1883. 
"Venice  has  two  aspects,  one  sensuous  and  self-indulgent,  the 
other  lofty,  spiritual,  and  even  severe.  Both  aspects  appear  in 
its  history,  and  both  are  also  in  its  art.  Titian  often  represents 
the  former.  The  loftier,  nobler  Tintoretto  gives  us  the  second. 
There  is  something  in  his  greatest  pictures,  as,  for  instance,  in 
the  Crucifixion,  at  St.  Rocco,  which  no  other  artist  approaches. 
The  lordly  composition  gives  us  an  impression  of  intellectual 
grasp  and  vigor.  The  foreground  group  of  prostrate  women  is 
full  of  a  tenderness.  The  rich  pearly  light,  which  floods  the  centre, 
glows  with  a  solemn  picturesqueness,  and  the  great  Chiist,  who 
hangs  like  a  benediction  over  the  whole,  is  vocal  with  a  piety 
which  no  other  picture  in  the  world  displays.  And  the  Presen- 
tation of  the  Virgin,  in  Santa  Maiia  del  Orto,  is  the  consummate 
presentation  of  that  beautiful  subject,  its  beauty  not  lost  in  its 
majesty." 

On  December  1,  he  sailed  from  Venice  for  India,  by  the  way 
of  the  Suez  Canal,  then  a  new  experience  to  travellers.  The  voy- 
age was  to  be  a  long  one  and  he  had  fortified  himself  with  reading 
in  the  line  of  books  on  India.  He  amused  himself  with  letter- 
writing,  indulging  often  in  his  most  nonsensical  vein.  As  he 
was  leaving  Venice,  he  wrote  to  his  aunt  in  North  Andover: 

"It  is  eighteen  years  since  I  was  here,  on  my  first  European 
journey.  Then  I  was  on  my  way  to  Palestine.  One  difference 
between  that  year  abroad  and  this  I  feel  all  the  time.  Then  the 
old  home  in  Chauncy  Street  was  still  there,  and  father  and 
mother  were  both  waiting  to  hear  what  one  was  doing,  and  one 
of  my  pleasures  was  to  write  to  them  and  to  think  how  I  would 
tell  them  all  about  it  when  I  got  back.  I  miss  all  that  part  of 
the  interest  of  travel  very  much  now.  Sometimes  it  is  hard  to 
realize  that  they  are  not  still  there,  and  that  I  am  not  to  write 
to  them.  At  this  distance  all  that  has  come  since  I  was  here 
before  seems  like  a  dream." 

As  the  steamship  neared  Alexandria  he  wrote  commenting 
on  his  fellow-passengers: 


INDIA  389 

"Steamship  Poonah,  getting  pretty  near  Alexandria, 

December  6,  1882. 

"  So  far  the  voyage  thither  has  gone  very  well,  but  has  not  been 
particularly  interesting.  The  first  days  out  of  Venice  were  very 
rough,  and  many  of  the  passengers  were  sick  and  most  of  them 
uncomfortable  and  cross.  We  took  most  of  our  passengers  at 
Brindisi,  and  since  then  the  weather  has  been  better  and  the  sea 
more  calm,  so  that  the  souls  of  the  Englishmen  begin  to  revive 
and  they  are  growing  a  little  bit  more  sociable.  They  are  mostly 
the  sort  of  Englishman  who  is  full  of  information  and  intelligence, 
totally  destitute  of  imagination  or  of  humor,  and  absolutely  de- 
termined to  bring  all  the  world  to  his  own  standard.  He  makes 
you  mad  and  amuses  you  and  wins  your  respect  all  at  once, 
all  the  time.  .  .  ." 

He  speaks  of  the  relief  it  has  been  to  stop  preaching.  To  a 
friend  whose  church  had  just  been  consecrated,  he  writes : 

"I  am  glad  the  consecration  ceremony  is  safely  over,  though  I 
can't  help  feeling  as  if  we  consecrated  it  long  ago.  But  now  the 
Bishop  has  been  there,  and  he  feels  better  about  it  if  you  don't. 
A  large  part  of  our  relation  to  our  bishops  seems  to  consist  in 
efforts  on  our  part  and  theirs  to  make  them  feel  good.  How 
well  I  can  see  the  whole  scene:  Bishop  Paddock's  arrival  with 
his  bag;  his  breaking  up  the  service  into  little  bits  among  the 
clergy  like  the  five  loaves  and  the  two  fishes,  to  be  set  before 
the  people,  and  his  voice  beginning  the  sentences  as  he  went  up  the 
aisle,  and  the  sermon  and  the  collation  and  the  Episcopal  depart- 
ure. But,  dear  me,  how  far  away  all  that  is,  and  how  absurd 
for  me  to  get  mad  about  it  at  this  distance !  It  is  a  lovely  fore- 
noon. The  stewards  are  setting  the  table  for  lunch,  and  through 
the  open  skylight  I  can  hear  the  brogue  of  the  Englishmen  on  the 
deck.  The  Lascar  sailors,  who  are  all  Mohammedans  and  never 
heard  of  Bishop  Paddock,  are  going  back  and  forth  in  their  red 
turbans,  and  the  wind  that  comes  in  through  the  portholes  is  like 
June.  Truly  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts  need  not  trouble  one 
here." 

On  December  13,  half  way  down  the  Red  Sea,  he  kept  his  for- 
ty-seventh birthday.  "I  don't  believe  that  many  fellows  have 
had  a  happier  forty -seven  years  than  I  have  had.  It  seems  quite 
absurd  sometimes,  when  I  think  how  everything  has  gone  about 
as  I  should  have  wished.  How  good  everybody  has  been  to  me 
and  how  the  world  has  kept  its  troubles  out  of  the  sea.  .  .  . 
We  have  been  on  board  now  two  weeks,  and  have   ten  days 


390  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

more  of  it  before  we  reach  Bombay.  Everybody  has  settled 
down  to  the  life.  This  morning,  as  I  passed  the  captain's  cabin, 
he  was  quietly  painting  a  picture,  and  the  boys  and  girls  are  get- 
ting up  concerts  and  farces  as  if  they  meant  to  live  upon  the 
Poonah  all  the  rest  of  their  lives." 

On  the  23d  of  December  he  reached  Bombay,  and  was  in  India 
at  last.  His  first  act  was  to  telegraph  home  his  safe  arrival, 
and  then  the  vision  of  the  gorgeous  pageantry  began.  Of  his 
first  impressions  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  he  writes: 

"We  drove  about  the  town  and  began  our  sight  of  Indian  won- 
ders: Hindoo  temples,  with  their  squatting  ugly  idols;  Moham- 
medan mosques;  bazaars  thronged  with  every  Eastern  race; 
splendid  English  buildings  where  the  country  is  ruled;  a  noble 
university;  Parsee  merchants  in  their  shops;  great  tanks  with 
the  devotees  bathing  in  them;  officers'  bungalows,  with  the  hand- 
some English  fellows  lounging  about;  wedding  processions,  with 
the  bride  of  six  years  old  riding  on  the  richly  decorated  horse 
behind  the  bridegroom  of  ten,  surrounded  by  their  friends,  and 
with  a  tumult  of  horrible  music ;  markets  overrunning  with 
strange  and  delicious  fruits ;  wretched-looking  saints  chattering 
gibberish  and  begging  alms, — there  is  no  end  to  the  interest  and 
curiosity  of  it  all!  And  this  is  dead  winter  in  the  tropics.  I 
have  out  all  my  thinnest  clothes,  and  go  about  with  an  umbrella 
to  keep  off  the  sun.  This  morning  we  started  at  half  past  six 
for  a  walk  through  the  sacred  part  of  the  native  town,  and  now 
at  ten  it  is  too  hot  to  walk  any  more  till  sundown.  But  there 
are  carriages  enough,  and  by  and  by  we  go  to  church.  I  was 
invited  to  preach  at  the  cathedral,  but  declined." 

He  remained  in  Bombay  for  a  week,  where  every  facility  for 
seeing  what  was  most  important  to  be  seen  was  afforded  him 
under  the  best  guidance.  He  lunched,  by  the  invitation  of  the 
Governor,  Sir  James  Fergusson,  at  the  Government  House.  He 
made  excursions  to  old  Buddhist  temples  in  the  vicinity,  and  to 
the  Ellora  Caves.  But  the  heat  was  so  excessive  that  he  suffered, 
and  was  glad  to  escape  to  a  cooler  climate.  From  Bombay  he 
went  to  Ahmedabad.  Here  he  struck  Mohammedan  influences, 
and  visited  the  great  mosques.  From  thence  he  came  to  Jeypore. 
The  Rajah  sent  him  in  a  carriage  to  the  entrance  to  Amber,  from 
whence  he  made  the  ascent  on  elephants  to  the  deserted  town, 
with  its  splendid  palaces  and  temples.     At  Jeypore  he  preached 


INDIA  391 

in  the  English  church.     On  January  8th  he  reached  Delhi.     To 
Mr.  R.  T.  Paine  he  writes: 

"Lahore,  January  15,  1883. 
"I  wish  that  I  could  give  you  some  idea  of  the  enjoyment  I 
have  had  in  the  last  three  weeks.  Ever  since  I  landed  in  Bom- 
bay it  has  been  one  ever-changing  and  always  delightful  picture, 
but  a  picture  which  not  only  delighted  the  eye  with  color,  but 
kept  the  mind  busy  with  all  sorts  of  interesting  thoughts.  I 
cannot  begin  to  tell  you  about  it.  That  will  come  in  the  long 
evenings  when  we  sit  together  over  your  fire  or  mine,  and  I  tire 
your  patience  out  and  you  make  believe  that  you  are  not  bored. 
But  do  you  know  I  have  seen  the  Brahmin  and  Buddhist  Rock 
Temples  at  Elephanta  and  Karli  and  Ellora,  in  many  respects 
the  most  remarkable  monuments  which  religion  ever  wrought? 
And  I  have  seen  the  exquisite  art  of  Ahmedabad  and  Jeypore, 
and  I  have  been  at  the  great  seat  of  the  old  Mogul  power  at  Delhi, 
and  I  have  studied  the  most  perfect  mosque  that  ever  was  made, 
with  a  tower  like  a  dream,  at  Kittub,  and  now  I  am  in  the  land 
of  the  Sikhs,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  see  the  Golden  Temple  at 
Umritsar,  and  before  next  Sunday  I  shall  have  looked  at  the 
Taj  at  Agra,  the  gem  of  all  the  gems  of  India.  And  all  the  while 
the  most  interesting  problems  of  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future  have  been  crowding  on  the  mind.  The  efforts  of  these 
conscientious,  blundering  Englishmen  to  do  their  duty  by  the 
Hindu,  whom  they  don't  like,  and  who  don't  like  them,  are  con- 
stantly pathetic.  I  have  just  been  spending  some  days  with  a 
household  of  five  young  English  clergymen  at  Delhi,  who  are 
doing  the  best  kind  of  missionary  and  education  work.  They 
are  splendid  fellows,  whom  you  would  immensely  like.  The 
hospitality  of  everybody  here  in  India,  and  the  way  they  put 
themselves  out  to  make  you  comfortable  and  to  let  you  see 
everything,  is  a  continual  wonder  and  embarrassment." 

At  Delhi  he  was  invited  by  the  Lieutenant-Governor,  Sir  Charles 
Atchison,  to  a  "swell  dinner  in  a  gorgeous  tent,  with  about  thirty 
persons,  and  no  end  of  picturesque  servants  to  wait  on  us."  While 
he  lingered  in  Delhi  he  preached  in  the  English  church.  One  who 
heard  him  for  the  first  time  recalls  how  he  listened  with  wonder 
and  a  sense  of  awe.  As  the  congregation  was  leaving  the  church 
he  heard  the  comments  on  every  side:  "It  was  a  wonderful  ser- 
mon!" "Who  is  he? "  "He  must  be  some  man  of  high  distinc- 
tion in  the  world." 

From  Delhi  he  went  to  Agra,  visiting  the  Taj  Mahal,  the  most 


392  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

beautiful  building  in  India ;  then  to  Cawnpore,  where  he  was  inter- 
ested in  the  mission  work,  and  saw  the  divinity  school;  from 
there  to  Lucknow,  where  he  again  met  with  English  missionaries; 
then  to  Allahabad,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Jamna  and  the  Ganges. 
He  was  now  in  the  region  where  Buddhism  originated,  and  made 
a  pilgrimage  to  Asoka's  Pillar.  And  so  he  came  to  Benares,  the 
most  sacred  city  in  India,  with  its  five  thousand  temples,  one  of 
the  most  ancient  cities  of  the  globe.  Here  he  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment and  among  his  letters  was  one  to  Herr  von  Bunsen: 

"Benares,  January  28,  1883. 

"My  dear  Herr  von  Bunsen, — Do  you  really  care  to  know 
that  this  week  I  have  seen  the  Taj  Mahal?  It  is  one  of  the  few 
buildings  which,  like  a  few  people  whom  one  sees  in  life,  make 
an  epoch.  In  the  midst  especially  of  this  Indian  architecture 
which,  rich  and  interesting  as  it  is,  is  almost  always  fantastic 
and  profane,  what  a  wonder  it  is  to  find,  as  the  culmination  of  it 
all,  as  the  perfect  flower  which  has  grown  out  of  all  this  gross  and 
heavy  soil,  a  building  whose  one  absorbing  impression  is  its 
purity.  One  almost  feels  that  here  that  essence  of  pure  religion 
which  is  lurking  somewhere  under  all  the  degradation  and  super- 
stition of  this  land  has  broken  forth  in  an  exquisiteness  which 
surpasses  anything  that  even  Christian  architecture  has  attained. 
Some  day  you  must  come  and  see  it,  and  get  a  new  memory  and 
dream  for  all  your  life. 

"India  has  interested  me  intensely.  Its  past  and  present  and 
future  are  all  full  of  suggestion.  I  long  to  see  Christianity  come 
here,  not  merely  for  what  it  will  do  for  India,  but  for  what  India 
will  do  for  it.  Here  it  must  find  again  the  lost  Oriental  side  of 
its  brain  and  heart,  and  be  no  longer  the  Occidental  European 
religion  which  it  has  so  strangely  become.  It  must  be  again  the 
religion  of  Man,  and  so  the  religion  of  all  men.  At  present  the 
missionary  efforts  are  burdened  with  Englishism  and  American- 
ism, and  the  country  does  not  feel  them  much;  but  they  are  get- 
ting broader,  and  the  larger  religious  life,  which  I  am  sure  has 
begun  to  come  at  home,  must  be  felt  here." 

At  Calcutta  he  remained  for  nearly  two  weeks.  Here  as  at 
every  other  point  his  highest  interest  culminated  in  the  mission- 
ary work.  He  studied  the  situation  with  an  open  mind,  ready 
to  see  things  as  they  were,  unbiassed  by  the  exaggerations  of 
missionary  enthusiasm.  Immediately  on  his  arrival  at  Calcutta 
he  made  the  long-anticipated  call  on  the  Hindu  reformer  Chunder 


INDIA  393 

Sen.     In  a  letter  to  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks  he  gives  the  impressions 

he  received: 

"February  22,  1883. 

"Dear  Arthur, — Calcutta  itself  has  not  many  sights,  and  so 
it  is  the  people  whom  one  wants  to  see.  This  morning  I  spent 
two  hours  with  Keshub  Baboo  Chunder  Sen.  And  I  '11  tell  you 
about  him.  I  told  old  Mr.  Dall,  the  venerable  Unitarian  mis- 
sionary here,  that  I  wanted  to  see  the  head  of  the  New  Dispensa- 
tion, and  the  minister  of  the  Brahma  Somaj  (which  is  another 
name  for  the  same  thing)  sent  back  word  that  he  would  be  at 
home  at  nine  o'clock  to-day.  On  the  Circular  Road,  one  of  the 
chief  streets  of  the  city,  there  is  a  big  house  all  surrounded  on 
three  stories  with  verandas,  standing  inside  a  garden,  around 
which  is  a  high  pink-washed  wall.  On  the  gate-post  is  inscribed 
the  name  of  Lily  Cottage,  which,  I  believe,  was  the  title  which 
a  previous  occupant  gave  to  the  place.  Driving  in  under  a  great 
porte  cockere,  we  were  shown  up  to  a  very  large,  high  parlor  in  the 
second  story,  where  we  waited  for  the  prophet.  It  was  furnished 
comfortably  but  not  tastefully  in  European  style,  with  rather 
cheap  pictures  on  the  walls.  I  noticed  especially  an  engraving 
of  the  Queen,  which  had  been  presented  to  Keshub  by  her  Ma- 
jesty; also  a  very  poor  little  painting  of  the  man  himself,  sitting 
on  the  Himalayas  with  a  woman  by  his  side,  he  holding  a  long 
guitar-like  instrument  in  his  hand,  and  clad  in  the  skin  of  a  tiger. 
At  one  end  of  the  room  hung  a  familiar  chromo-lithograph  of 
Christ,  after  Carlo  Dolci,  holding  the  sacramental  cup,  and  with 
the  right  hand  raised  in  blessing, — a  large,  cheap  Christian  pic- 
ture. While  we  were  looking  about,  Chunder  Sen  came  in,  a 
rather  tall  and  sturdy  man  of  forty-five,  with  a  bright,  kindly, 
open  face,  a  round  head,  and  black  moustache  and  somewhat 
short-cut  black  hair.  He  wore  the  Eastern  white  mantle  thrown 
over  his  shoulders,  and  apparently  covering  a  more  or  less  Euro- 
pean dress.  He  gave  me  a  most  kindly  greeting,  and  at  once 
began  to  talk.  I  asked  him  questions,  and  he  answered  freely 
and  at  length.  It  made  me  feel  very  like  an  interviewer,  but  it 
was  the  best  way  to  get  at  what  I  wanted.  He  said  that  the 
central  position  of  Brahma  Somaj  was  pure  theism.  It  stood 
fairly  between  Indian  pantheism  on  one  side  and  Indian  idolatry 
on  the  other,  insisting  fully  on  the  unity  and  personality  of  God, 
and  freely  calling  Him  'Father,'  believing  in  this  God's  perpetual 
and  universal  presence.  It  found  His  prophets  everywhere,  and 
aimed  to  hold  all  the  good  and  true  of  all  systems  and  all  teachers 
'in  Christ.'  He  mentioned,  especially,  Socrates,  Mohammed 
and  Buddha.  When  you  tried  to  find  just  what  he  meant  by 
holding  the  truth  of  them  'in  Christ,'  he  eluded  you.  He  con- 
stantly asserted  that  he  held  Christ  to  be  in  unique  sense  the 
4  Son  of  God,'  but  said  he  could  not  any  further  explain  his  mean- 


394  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

ing  of  that  phrase.  He  rejected  all  idea  of  Incarnation.  Nor 
would  he  own  that  Christ,  in  His  historic  teaching,  was  in  any 
way  the  test  by  which  other  teachers  should  be  judged.  He 
talked  much  of  '  communion  with  Christ,'  but  defined  it  as  such 
profound  contemplation  of  his  character  as  produced  entire 
sympathy  with  Him,  not  allowing  anything  like  personal  inter- 
course with  a  Christ  now  living  and  communicating  with  us. 
Still  he  clung  strongly  to  that  phrase  'in  Christ.'  He  described 
very  interestingly  the  'pilgrimages'  of  the  Brahma  Somaj  to 
Socrates  or  Buddha  or  Mohammed  or  Carlyle,  which  consist  of 
gathering  in  front  of  the  church  and  singing  hymns  and  reading 
some  of  the  great  teacher's  sayings,  and  then  going  inside  and 
sitting  still  and  entering  into  communion  with  his  character. 
Besides  these,  and  as  something  more  sacred,  they  have  occa- 
sionally the  Lord's  Supper,  which  is  celebrated  with  Indian  sweet- 
meats and  water,  and  centres  in  mystic  contemplation  of  the 
character  of  Jesus.  They  have  also  a  baptism,  which  is  quite 
optional,  and  strangely  keeps  association  with  the  Hindu  ablu- 
tions on  the  one  hand  and  with  Christian  baptism  on  the  other. 
He  was  very  interesting  in  his  account  of  how  freely  he  uses  the 
terms  of  the  old  Hindu  mythology,  talking  of  Siva  and  Vishnu 
and  Parvati  as  different  sides  of  Deity,  and  hoping  so  to  win  the 
people  to  spiritual  views  of  what  they  have  long  held  materially, 
and  to  construct  in  their  minds  a  unity  out  of  the  fragments  of 
Divine  Ideal,  of  which  their  books  are  full.  Thus  he  hopes  some 
day  to  appeal  to  the  common  superstitious  Hindu  mind,  though 
thus  far  the  movement  has  been  mostly  confined  to  the  higher 
classes,  who  have  been  reached  by  English  education.  He  said 
some  fine  things  about  the  Orientalism  of  Christ  and  Christianity, 
and  about  the  impossibility  of  India  ever  becoming  Christian 
after  the  European  sort.  At  the  same  time  he  said  unreservedly 
that  the  future  religion  of  India  would  be  a  Christ  religion.  The 
asceticism  to  which  he  clings  is  of  a  very  healthy  human  sort, 
rejecting  entirely  the  old  ideas  of  the  Fakirs.  He  pointed  to  the 
picture  on  the  wall  and  said  that  there  he  had  himself  painted 
as  a  Vedic  Rishi,  but  had  especially  taken  care  to  have  his  wife 
painted  by  his  side  to  show  that  the  true  asceticism  kept  still 
the  family  life.  As  to  the  peculiar  worship  of  their  society,  he 
told  of  the  new  'Dance'  which  has  been  lately  introduced,  and 
which  has  been  much  abused.  It  is,  according  to  him,  neither 
more  or  less  than  the  Methodist  camp-meeting  principle  of  the 
physical  expression  of  spiritual  emotion  putting  itself  into  Ori- 
ental shape.  For  himself,  he  eats  no  meat  and  drinks  no  wine, 
but  these  restrictions  are  not  enforced  nor  universal,  though  they 
are  very  commonly  observed  as  a  protest  against  the  self-indul- 
gence into  which  modern  India  is  largely  running  as  it  departs 
from  its  old  faiths. 


INDIA  395 

"All  this  and  much  more  was  told  with  a  quiet  glow  and  ear- 
nestness which  was  very  impressive.  The  basis  and  inspiration 
of  it  all  was  intuition.  There  was  no  reference  to  any  authority. 
Indeed  he  almost  boasts  that  he  never  reads.  Even  his  Christ 
seemed  to  be  One  of  whom  he  knew  not  so  much  by  the  New 
Testament  as  by  personal  contemplation.  He  shrinks  from 
dogma  and  definition,  and  eludes  you  at  every  turn.  He  is  the 
mystic  altogether.  As  we  got  up  and  went  out  we  passed  a 
room  where  his  household  and  some  other  disciples  were  at  morn- 
ing worship.  Eight  or  ten  men  sat  cross-legged  on  the  floor  with 
closed  eyes,  while  one  fine-looking  fellow  in  the  midst  murmured 
a  half-audible  prayer.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  was  a  rustic 
booth  devoted  to  supreme  contemplation,  in  which  sat  one  wor- 
shipper, who  seemed  more  absorbed  even  than  the  others.  At 
the  feet  of  the  men  lay  drums  and  other  musical  instruments,  to 
which  they  would  by  and  by  sing  a  hymn.  We  had  heard  them 
singing  as  we  sat  talking  with  Keshub  Baboo.  Behind  a  thin 
curtain  you  could  see  just  the  women's  fans.  Chunder  Sen  stood 
and  looked  in  with  us  at  the  door  and  told  us  all  about  it,  and 
then  bade  us  a  cordial  farewell  and  promised  some  of  his  books 
and  a  photograph  of  himself,  which  he  has  since  sent. 

"This  is  enough,  perhaps,  of  Chunder  Sen,  but  I  thought  you 
might  care  to  hear  of  what  has  interested  me  immensely.  It  is 
Indian  mysticism  fastening  on  Christ  and  trying  to  become  the 
practical  saviour  of  the  country  by  Him.  They  hold  in  full  the 
idea  of  special  national  religions  all  embraced  and  included  within 
the  great  religion  of  the  divine  life  made  known  in  Jesus.  Surely 
nothing  could  be  more  interesting  than  this.  It  is  not  Chris- 
tianity, but  it  is  the  effort  of  India  to  realize  Christ  in  her  own 
way, — so  far  as  I  know,  the  only  such  attempt  now  being  made 
in  any  heathen  land.  .  .   . 

"I  am  almost  ashamed  of  having  written  so  much,  but  it  does 
seem  to  me  to  be  the  very  kind  of  thing  for  which  we  are  all  look- 
ing. Brahma  Somaj  is  not  the  end.  It  is  only  the  first  sign  of 
the  real  working  of  the  native  soul  and  mind  on  Christ  and  His 
truth,  which  must  sometime  find  far  fuller  light  than  it  has  found 
yet.  The  whole  movement  and  its  leader  believe  intensely  in  the 
Holy  Spirit.  And  I  believe  that  such  embodiments  of  Chris- 
tianity as  India  will  sometime  furnish,  and  such  as  this  New  Dis- 
pensation faintly  and  blunderingly  suggests,  will  not  merely  be 
different  from  European  Christianity,  but  will  add  something 
to  it,  and  make  the  world  of  Christianity  a  completer  thing,  with 
its  Eastern  and  Western  halves  both  there,  than  it  has  ever  been 
before.  These  are  my  views.  Sometime  soon  I  will  write  to 
you  about  something  else.  Now  good-night.  On  Sunday  I 
shall  go  to  the  cathedral  in  the  morning  and  to  Brahma  Somaj 
in  the  afternoon." 


396  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

While  he  was  at  Calcutta  he  took  a  long  journey  for  the  pur- 
pose of  seeing  the  Himalayas,  and  was  rewarded  by  a  most  splen- 
did view  of  the  whole  range  after  it  had  been  invisible  on  account 
of  rain  for  eight  days.  In  the  midst  was  the  "lordly  Kinchin- 
jinga,  28,000  feet  high,  the  second  highest  mountain  in  the  world. 
Certainly  they  made  the  impression  of  height  such  as  no  moun- 
tains ever  gave  me  before."  On  his  return  to  Calcutta,  he  went 
to  an  evening  party  given  by  the  rajah,  in  honor  of  the  late 
British  victory  in  Egypt. 

"Of  course  I  went  to  this,  and  it  was  the  biggest  thing  seen  in 
India  for  years.  It  is  said  to  have  cost  the  old  rajah  a  lac  of 
rupees,  or  $100,000.  At  any  rate,  it  was  very  splendid  and  very 
queer, — acres  of  palace  and  palace  grounds  blazing  with  lights; 
a  thousand  guests,  the  natives  in  the  most  beautiful  costumes  of 
silk  and  gold;  a  Nautch  dance  going  on  all  the  time  in  one  hall; 
a  full  circus, — horses,  acrobats,  clowns,  and  all,  only  after  native 
fashion, — in  a  great  covered  courtyard;  supper  perpetual,  and 
the  great  drawing-room  blazing  with  family  jewels.  I  stayed 
till  one  o'clock,  and  then  came  home  as  if  from  the  Arabian 
Nights  and  went  to  bed." 

Leaving  Calcutta,  he  came  to  Madras.  While  there  he  made 
a  trip  to  the  Seven  Pagodas,  which  only  needed  the  company  of 
his  friends  to  have  been  complete  to  his  imagination.  He  com- 
pensated himself  for  their  absence  by  humorous  letters  to  his 
friends,  complaining  that  they  were  writing  sermons  when  they 
might  just  as  well  have  been  with  him  as  not.  This  letter  to  the 
Rev.  C.  D.  Cooper  gives  a  specimen  of  his  humor: 

"Chedambaram,  February  22,  1883. 
"Dear  Cooper, — In  case  you  don't  know  where  Chedam- 
baram is,  I  will  tell  you  that  it  is  just  ten  miles  from  Vaithis- 
varankoil,  and  it  is  hotter  than  Philadelphia  in  fly-time.  I  have 
been  celebrating  the  birthday  of  Mr.  Washington  by  firing  off 
bottles  of  soda  water  all  the  morning  ever  since  we  came  in  from 
our  early  visit  to  the  wonderful  pagoda  which  is  the  marvel  of 
this  beautiful  but  benighted  heathen  town.  The  only  way  to 
see  things  here  in  southern  India  is  to  start  at  daybreak,  when 
the  country  is  cool  and  lovelier  than  anything  you  can  imagine. 
The  palm-trees  are  waving  in  the  early  breeze.  The  elephants 
go  crushing  along  with  painted  trunks  and  gilded  tusks.  The 
pretty  Hindu  girls  are  drawing  water  at  the  wells  under  the 
banana  groves.     The  naked  children  are  frolicking  in  the  dust  of 


INDIA  397 

the  bazaars.  The  old  men  and  women  are  drinking  their  early 
cocoanut,  and  you  jolt  along  on  the  straw,  in  your  creaking  bul- 
lock cart,  as  jolly  as  a  rajah.  So  we  went  this  morning  to  do 
homage  to  the  false  gods.  Vishnu  had  gone  off  on  a  pilgrimage, 
and  his  shrine  was  empty,  but  Siva  was  at  home,  and  the  howl- 
ing devotees  were  in  the  middle  of  the  morning  service.  They 
must  have  been  at  about  the  second  lesson  when  we  arrived,  but, 
owing  to  the  peculiar  character  of  their  language,  it  was  not  easy 
to  make  out  just  what  stage  of  the  morning  exercises  they  had 
reached.  But  it  did  n't  much  matter,  for  immediately  on  our 
arrival  the  worship  stopped  where  it  was  and  the  officiating  cler- 
gyman came  forward  and  ridiculously  presented  us  with  a  lime 
each,  and  then  tried  to  put  a  garland  of  flowers  about  our  Chris- 
tian necks.  This  last  attention  I  refused,  with  indignation  at 
his  making  a  heathen  so  summarily  out  of  a  respectable  presbyter 
of  the  P.  E.  Church  from  Bishop  Paddock's  diocese.  He  grace- 
fully intimated  that  he  did  n't  mind  my  being  mad  but  would 
pocket  the  insuh  (or  do  whatever  a  fellow  does  who  has  no 
pocket,  or  indeed  anything  else  except  a  dirty  rag  about  his 
loins),  provided  I  gave  him  the  rupee  which  he  expected  all  the 
same.  While  I  was  doing  this  there  was  a  noise  like  seven  pande- 
moniums outside,  and  soon  in  through  the  gate  came  a  wild 
crowd  of  savages  yelling  like  fiends  and  carrying  on  their  shoul- 
ders a  great  platform  on  which  was  a  big  brass  idol  all  daubed 
with  grease  and  hung  with  flowers.  This  was  Vishnu,  just  re- 
turned from  his  sea  bath,  and  in  front  of  him  came  the  craziest 
band  of  music,  made  up  of  lunatics  banging  on  tom-toms  and 
screeching  away  on  brazen  trumpets  three  feet  long.  We  saw 
the  ugly  divinity  safe  in  his  shrine,  and  left  the  pagans  yelling 
in  their  joy  at  getting  their  ugly  image  safely  home. 

"By  this  time  the  sun  was  blazing,  as  I  said,  and  we  came 
home  to  the  bungalow,  which  does  duty  for  a  tavern,  and  set  a 
small  Hindu  to  pulling  away  at  a  punkah  rope  at  the  cost  of  three 
cents  a  day.  Then  we  cut  up  our  sacred  limes  and  poured  soda 
water  on  the  juice  of  them  and  made  a  drink  which  I  advise  you 
to  try  if  ever  you  have  to  spend  a  hot  day  in  Chedambaram. 
Then  we  breakfasted  on  rice  and  curry  and  fried  bananas,  and 
then  I  thought  I  would  write  to  you  and  send  you  my  blessing 
out  of  the  depths  of  this  Hindu  darkness." 

To  the  Rev.  G.  A.  Strong: 

"Tanjore,  February  23,  1883. 
"It  is  the  loveliest  Indian  night,  and  I  am  sitting  on  the  ve- 
randa of  a  travellers'  bungalow,  and  it  is  cool,  which  is  more 
than  could  have  been  said  of  any  house  to-day  since  breakfast 
time.     A  travellers'  bungalow  is  a  sort  of  government  institu- 


393  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tion  which  exists  in  every  considerable  town  in  India  which  has 
no  hotel,  and  in  some  that  have.  It  takes  you  in, — gives  you  a 
bedstead.  You  must  bring  your  own  bedding,  your  own  servant, 
your  own  victuals,  and  here  you  live  as  independent  as  a  prince, 
or  pack  up  and  are  off  when  you  have  seen  the  sights  or  done 
your  business.  The  sight  of  Tanjore  is  a  glorious  pagoda, — a 
vast  pyramidal  Hindu  temple,  two  hundred  feet  high,  rich  with 
all  sorts  of  grotesque  sculpture  from  top  to  bottom,  and  glowing 
with  all  sorts  of  colors, — red  and  brown  and  yellow  and  green 
and  black, — all  mellowed  and  harmonized  with  ages.  Inside 
there  is  a  hideous  shrine  with  a  hideous  idol,  but  the  outside  is 
a  marvel,  and  it  stands  in  a  great  area  dotted  with  palms  and 
guavas,  and  with  a  lot  of  little  temples  sprouting  as  if  from  the 
roots  of  the  big  thing.  This  is  our  latest  wonder;  but  every  day 
for  the  last  two  months  has  had  its  spectacle,  and  such  a  sky  has 
been  over  all  all  the  time  as  even  New  Bedford  never  sees.  .  .  . 
It  has  been  a  great  success.  Everybody  has  been  very  hospit- 
able, and  the  only  wonder  has  been  to  find  each  morning  that 
it  was  not  all  a  dream  and  has  not  vanished  in  the  night.  But 
it  is  almost  over  now.  Next  week  we  shall  be  in  Ceylon,  and  on 
the  7th  of  March  we  sail  from  Colombo  to  Suez  and  shall  be  in 
commonplace  Europe  again  before  we  know  it.  .  .  And  just  now 
it  is  Lent,  I  think ;  I  am  not  sure.  A  day  which  I  believe  was  Ash 
Wednesday  I  spent  up  at  Darj heeling  gazing  at  the  Himalayas. 
I  have  no  daily  service  and  no  confirmation  class.  All  of  these 
things  seem  like  dim  memories,  but  I  am  glad  that  some  of  you 
are  more  faithful  than  I  am,  and  are  doing  the  Gospel  work  while 
I  am  loafing  here  among  these  naked  heathen.  It  is  wonderful 
how  little  clothes  an  utter  absence  of  the  Christian  faith  can 
get  along  with!  I  have  almost  wished  I  was  a  heathen  for  this 
one  privilege  of  heathenism  at  any  rate." 

From  Madras  he  went  to  Ceylon,  where  he  spent  a  week,  visit- 
ing the  Buddhist  shrines,  talking  with  Buddhist  priests,  inter- 
ested in  the  Buddhist  schools  and  in  the  contrast  between 
Buddhism  and  Hindu  religion.  In  his  spare  moments  he  was 
reading  books  on  India, — the  writings  of  Hunter  and  Wilkins. 
On  the  religion  of  India  he  supplemented  what  he  saw  by  the 
works  of  students  such  as  Max  Muller,  Barth,  and  Rhys  Davids. 
Trevelyan's  Cawnpore,  the  writings  of  Meadows  Taylor,  Macaulay 's 
essays  on  "  Give  "  and  "Warren  Hastings,"  gave  him  information 
to  be  co-ordinated  with  his  own  experience.  He  mentions  Mr. 
Isaacs,  a  novel  by  Marion  Crawford,  which  has  catight  the  real 
life  of  the  people  as  he  himself  had  seen  it,  "the  atmospheric 
contrast  between  the  Englishman's  sharp,  clear  concreteness  and 


INDIA  399 

the  Indian's  subtlety  and  mystery  very  well  brought  out."  He 
found  a  new  interest  in  reading  again  Arnold's  Light  of  Asia. 
On  Bishop  Heber's  Journey  he  dwelt,  admiring  its  spirit,  and 
gaining  greater  reverence  for  the  man.  Into  his  note-book  went 
some  of  his  reflections  regarding  Indian  religion: 

"Hinduism  the  great  stock  faith.  Its  wonderful  pliability; 
philosophical  and  idolatrous  both;  subtle  and  gross  at  once; 
neither  aspect  morally  elevating." 

"From  time  to  time  moral  reforms,  which  afterwards  degene- 
rate into  either,  first,  theological  differences,  like  Buddhism,  and 
Jainism,  its  successor;  or,  second,  political  and  military  move- 
ments, like  Sikhism." 

"These  reform  movements  always  taking  place,  but  always 
being  reabsorbed  by  the  superior  strength  of  the  great  Hindu 
system." 

"The  new  theism  is  a  stronger  movement,  because  it  has  affilia- 
tions with  the  two  great  forces  which  are  moving  in  the  outer 
world." 

"The  strongest  point  of  present  Hinduism  is  probably  transmi- 
gration. Its  effect  on  habits,  no  meat-eating.  Caste  is  its  great 
social  light  and  safeguard,  keeping  its  central  core  solid  and  com- 
pact. The  true  Brahman  cannot  travel,  must  prepare  his  own 
food,  etc." 

"Then  comes  Mohammedanism,  sharp,  precise,  simple,  and  in- 
tolerant,— without  philosophy,  cutting  right  through  the  whole 
life  of  the  nation,  like  a  wedge.  Existing  principally  in  the 
north." 

"Sikhism  was  originally  a  sort  of  attempt  to  reconcile  Hindu- 
ism and  Mohammedism,  but  this  character  has  long  since  gone 
out  of  it." 

"The  Brahmanical  doctrine  of  Identity,  the  assurance  that  sin 
and  misery  alike  consisted  and  resulted  in  the  separation  of  the 
personal  soul  from  the  Atman,  the  universal  self,  the  absolute 
existence,  and  that  the  struggle  of  man  must  be  towards,  as  the 
reward  of  man  will  be  in,  his  reentrance  into  the  Eternal  Identity 
by  the  death  of  his  own  individual  will  or  desire.  The  idea  also 
that  all  the  finite  world  is  a  delusive  dream,  a  Maya,  with  which 
the  Eternal  Being  amuses  itself,  as  it  were,  and  which  must  dis- 
appear as  the  mist  disappears  above  the  river  which  runs  on  still. 
All  this  which  we  reject  entirely  as  a  philosophy,  or  answer  to  the 
problems  of  existence,  has  yet  in  it  a  wonderful  power  of  appeal 
to  some  moods  of  almost  all  our  natures,  which  is  quite  sufficient 
to  make  us  understand  how  it  could  have  been,  and  is  still,  held 
by  imiltitudes  of  souls." 

"The  three  kinds  of  deities  represented  in  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and 


4oo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Siva — the  mysterious,  the  familiar,  and  the  awful — found  in  all 
religious  systems  as  the  conception  of  God  formed  by  different 
nations." 

"With  all  these  tremendous  exaggerations  of  space,  time,  and 
size,  in  these  Hindu  stories,  you  can  get  nothing  more  than  the 
universal  and  perpetual  human  passions.  Heroes  and  gods 
thirty  feet  high,  living  ten  thousand  years,  can,  after  all,  only 
love  and  hate  and  wish  and  dread." 

"Siva  is  pure  spirit,  although,  to  render  himself  perceptible 
and  conceivable,  he  deigns  to  assume  a  body  composed  'not  of 
matter,  but  of  force.'     The  modern  sound  of  this  last  notion." 

"The  old  Brahman  said,  'God  is  everything,  and  the  earth  and 
all  things  sensible  are  illusion  (Maya).'  The  modern  scientist 
says,  'The  sensible  things  alone  are  real,  and  God  is  all  a  dream.' 
Somewhere  these  two,  getting  entirely  around  the  circle,  must 
meet." 

"The  Hindu  triad, — Brahma,  only  a  handful  of  worshippers; 
Vishnu  supplies  a  worship  for  the  middle  classes ;  Siva,  a  philos- 
ophy for  the  learned,  and  a  superstition,  cruel  and  pale,  for  the 
lowest  classes.  Is  there  not  something  like  this  in  the  Chris- 
tian's relation  to  different  conceptions  of  God  and  Christ?" 

"Strange  lack  of  creative  power  in  modern  Hinduism;  their 
architecture  is  all  old." 

"The  endless  hope  of  Brahmanism,  which  is  transmigration, 
becomes  by  and  by  the  dread  and  despair  of  Buddhism,  which 
only  comes  to  escape  from  it  in  Nirvana.  The  relapse  again  into 
the  hoplessness  in  later  Hinduism.", 

"The  great  pagoda  at  Chedambaram  is  the  most  terrible  speci- 
men of  pure  idolatry.  All  refinements  and  subtleties  and  spir- 
itualizations  fade  away  in  the  presence  of  such  brutality  and 
darkness.  All  comparisons  with  the  darker  sides  of  Christian 
history  become  mere  fallacies." 

"The  awful  state  of  morals  at  Delhi;  unnatural  crimes  of  the 
most  awful  sort.  Traceable,  perhaps,  to  the  practices  of  early 
marriages  and  early  exhaustion,  and  of  the  isolation  of  women 
and  consequent  constitution  of  society  solely  by  men.  The  coun- 
try regions  better  than  the  city.  The  absolute  failure  of  Hindu 
religion  to  restrain  passion.  Certainly  Occidental  morals  must 
come  in;  and  if  in  the  West  those  morals  rest  on  Christian  faith, 
it  must  be  that  the  Christian  faith  shall  be  brought  here  as  their 
basis." 

As  Mr.  Brooks  passed  from  India  to  Ceylon,  he  received  more 
favorable  impressions  of  Buddhism  than  of  Indian  religion. 
He  did  justice  to  its  truth,  while  discerning  its  weakness.  For 
Buddha  himself  he  had  a  feeling  of  reverence. 


INDIA  401 

"As  one  sees  the  Buddhists  in  Ceylon,  there  is  certainly  a  look 
of  intelligence  such  as  one  does  not  easily  find  in  the  ordinary 
Hindu." 

"  The  three  Buddhist  notions  of  (1)  Skandha,  or  the  com- 
position of  each  man  out  of  elemental  conditions,  which  disunite 
at  his  death,  and  even  if  they  unite  again  to  make  another  being, 
who  is  his  true  successor,  they  do  not  make  him.  (2)  Karma, 
or  the  perpetuation  of  the  results  of  a  life  in  the  succeeding 
being,  something  quite  distinct  from  transmigration.  (3)  Nir- 
vana, the  final  falling  back  of  this  special  phenomenon  of  life 
into  the  mass  of  universal  existence;  an  anticipation  of  this  in 
present  life,  indifference  and  rest  In  all  of  these  a  constant 
extinction  of  personality  both  human  and  divine." 

"  It  is  clear  enough  that  the  Buddhist  did  and  does  draw  a  dis- 
tinction, perhaps  too  subtle  for  our  minds  to  follow,  but  still  real 
to  him,  between  Nirvana  and  personal  annihilation." 

"Buddha's  Bo  tree,  occupying  almost  the  same  place  in 
Buddhism  that  the  cross  does  in  Christianity.  It  marks  the  dif- 
ference. The  first  religion  saves  by  contemplation,  the  other  by 
active  sacrifice.     No  such  power  given  to  Christ's  temptation." 

"The  pathetic  connection  of  Buddha's  doctrine  of  the  misery 
of  life,  and  the  hope  of  ceasing  to  be,  with  the  miserable  circum- 
stances of  the  special  life  which  he  saw  about  him;  with  the 
German  pessimist  it  is  all  different;  a  fancy  theory." 

"The  great  remonstrance  against  caste  is  the  noblest  part  of 
Buddha's  teaching." 

"The  lapse  into  the  worship  of  Buddha  (a  false  personal 
religion)  shows  where  the  weakness  of  his  system  lay.  Original 
Buddhism  a  religion  of  character.'1 

"The  analogy  of  the  Vedic  religions,  of  Brahmanism,  of  Hin- 
duism, and  of  Buddhism,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  primitive 
Christianity  and  the  early  dogmatism  and  mediaevalism  and  the 
Reformation  on  another,  and  with  the  patriarchal  system  and 
Mosaism  and  Pharisaism  and  Christianity  on  yet  another,  is  illus- 
trative of  the  whole  constantly  repeated  movement  of  human 
nature.  The  step  from  Vedism  to  Brahmanism  being  associ- 
ated with  the  rising  authority  of  the  priesthood,  and  with  the 
loss  of  the  free  knowledge  of  the  language  of  the  Vedic  hymns, 
corresponds  exactly  to  the*  change  which  took  place  as  the  sim- 
ple substance  of  the  apostolic  Christianity  passed  over  into  the 
highly  organized  ecclesiastical  and  dogmatic  systems  of  the 
Latin  Church." 

"There  is  much  both  in  Brahmanism  and  Buddhism  that 
throws  light  upon  the  varying  understandings  of  the  'new'  or 
'second'  birth,  which  have  played  so  large  a  part  in  the  con- 
tentions and  speculations  of  Christendom.  Each  of  these  sys- 
tems, according  to  its  intrinsic  nature,  has  its  own  understanding 
36 


4o2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  the  idea  and  phrase  which  both  contain.  Brahmanism  ap- 
plies it  to  the  boy's  formal  entrance  on  a  certain  period  of  life, 
his  established  manhood.  Buddhism,  on  the  other  hand,  makes 
it  mean  the  perception  of  prof  ounder  truth  which  comes  with  the 
awakening  of  the  spiritual  nature  by  contemplation.  Both  of 
these  unite  in  Christianity  with  the  idea  of  moral  determination 
(transformation  where  the  nature  has  been  going  wrong)  to  make 
that  complete  notion  of  fulfilled  life  which  is  what  the  phrase  is 
always  struggling  for,  what  it  means  in  the  supreme  use  of  it  by 
Jesus." 

He  comments  upon  the  society  into  which  he  was  thrown, — 
the  Anglo-Indian,  the  English  officials,  the  civil  service,  the 
missionaries  whose  acquaintance  he  cultivated: 

"England  .  .  .  governs  the  country  without  sympathy  but 
with  careful  justice,  establishing  the  most  perfect  civil  service 
in  the  world.  That  service  is  something  at  which  we  never  cease 
to  wonder.  Highly  paid,  well  selected,  free  from  political  sub- 
servience, so  that  a  very  large  part  of  them  to-day  are  enemies  of 
the  present  government,  they  are  the  most  conscientious,  faithful, 
incorruptible  body  of  servants,  I  believe,  that  are  administering 
the  government  of  any  country  anywhere  in  the  world." 

"English  colonel's  statement  (at  Jeypore),  that  the  more  an 
Englishman  sees  of  other  people  the  more  he  dislikes  them.  If 
this  were  true,  what  a  great  incapacity  it  would  show  for  the 
work  on  inferior  races,  which  in  these  days  seems  to  be  more  and 
more  intrusted  to  the  Englishman.  There  is  no  love  lost  between 
the  two  races  in  India." 

"The  Anglo-Indian  has  a  sort  of  mental  and  moral  thin-blood- 
edness  which  somehow  or  other  the  English  seem  able  to  bear  less 
than  most  races.  The  first-rate  Englishman  is  the  best  thing  in 
the  world." 

"The  very  great  assumption  of  the  old  Anglo-Indian  that  he 
knew  more  about  the  worth  of  missions  than  the  missionary ;  the 
liking  which  he  often  has  for  R.  C.  missions,  and  even  for  native 
idolatries." 

"The  society  of  India  is  either  gross  heathenism,  with  its 
almost  total  absence  of  higher  things,  or  English  civil  life,  full  of 
the  littleness  of  officialism,  disliking  the  country,  anxious  to  be 
away,  and  with  more  or  less  of  spite  or  mutual  jealousy.  Among 
these,  apart  from  its  direct  religious  power,  how  valuably  comes 
in  the  sweet,  unselfish  life  of  such  works  as  the  Cambridge 
Mission. 

His  final   impressions   give   the   missionaries   in    India    and 


INDIA  403 

the  English  civil  service  an  equal  place  with  the  great  Hindu 
temple  Taj  and  the  great  mountain  Kinchin jinga.  He  had 
felt  some  doubts  and  misgivings  about  the  actual  results,  as 
about  the  methods  of  missions,  when  he  went  to  India.  These 
had  disappeared,  and  in  their  place  rose  enthusiasm  and  grati- 
tude and  hopefulness. 

"These  missionaries  are  really  splendid  fellows,  many,  most  of 
them.  One  hears  from  them  far  more  intelligent  talk  about  reli- 
gion and  the  relation  of  Christianity  to  other  faiths  than  he  would 
hear  from  the  same  number  of  parsons  at  home  (outside  the 
Club).  They  and  the  civil  servants  of  the  English  government 
are  doing  much  for  India.  Oh  for  a  civil  service  such  as  this 
at  home!  I  think,  next  to  the  Taj  and  Kinchinjinga,  that  is 
the  most  impressive  sight  that  I  have  seen  in  this  strange  land. 

"The  missionaries  are  as  noble  a  set  of  men  and  women  as  the 
world  has  to  show.  Tell  your  friends  who  'do  not  believe  in 
Foreign  Missions '  (and  I  am  sure  there  are  a  good  many  such)  that 
they  do  not  know  what  they  are  talking  about,  and  that  three 
weeks'  sight  of  mission  work  in  India  would  convert  them  wholly." 

He  stood  in  Henry  Martyn's  pulpit,  and  the  words  inscribed 
upon  it,  "He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light,"  gained  a  new 
meaning.     Some  of  his  reflections  on  missions  are  here  given: 

"The  Bishop  of  Calcutta  (February  3)  talking  about  the  fool- 
ishness and  uselessness  of  trying  to  take  the  Hindu's  view, — 
'Give  them  the  Englishman's  and  let  them  find  out  their  own.' 
Poor  talk." 

"Curious  article  in  Home  and  Foreign  Church  Work,  asserting 
the  need  of  asceticism  in  India.     I  do  not  believe  it." 

"Missions  in  India;  their  naturalness  when  one  is  on  the 
ground.  The  question  how  missions  look  to  one  in  a  heathen 
land:  intensely  practical  and  absolutely  necessary.  It  brings 
itself  to  a  personal  question,  Can  this  man  be  lightened  with  the 
Light?  The  great  250,000,000  are  a  paralysis.  This  man  is  an 
inspiration,  and  his  conversion  or  the  struggle  for  it  keeps  hope 
alive." 

"The  really  unanimous  testimony  to  the  Indian's  untruthful- 
ness.    The  awful  business  of  haggling  in  the  bazaars." 

"The  first  sense  of  tameness  in  the  converts, — loss  of  their  first 
rude  and  fierce  picturesqueness." 

"  How  much  there  possibly  may  be  in  the  Anglo-Indian's  state- 
ment that  the  Christian  convert  is  less  trustworthy  than  the 
Hindu.     Possibly  something.     His  associations  are  broken,  and 


404  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

he  lacks  whatever  good  influence  there  possibly  may  be  in  loyalty 
to  caste.  He  has  a  strong  restraint  in  fellow-men's  judgment. 
His  neighbors  despise  him.  Think  of  old  Corinth,  and  what  its 
magistrate  must  have  said  of  Paul's  converts,  '  Have  any  of  the 
Pharisees  believed  in  Him?'" 

"I  do  not  know  of  any  country  where  religious  statistics  would 
mean  so  little,  or,  at  least,  would  have  to  be  taken  with  so  much 
careful  reserve  as  in  India.   ..." 

"I  believe  beyond  all  doubt  that  the  missionaries  are  doing  a 
great  work,  and  that  the  time  is  not  far  off  when  it  will  show; 
but  it  must  be  by  some  more  intimate  reading  of  the  thought  and 
genius  of  the  people  than  has  yet  been  made ;  not  merely  pluck- 
ing brands  from  the  burning,  but  by  putting  out  the  fire." 

"The  Indians  have  the  primary  affections  very  strong, — pa- 
rental and  filial  affections,  love  of  kindred,  kindness  for  creatures, 
craving  for  immortality,  sense  of  wonder.  These  are  what  Chris- 
tianity starts  with,  and  what  it  is  to  build  into  completeness." 

"After  all,  the  Hindu  mind,  haunted  by  the  conception  of 
escape  and  holiness,  has  something  pathetic  and  sublime  about 
it.  No  comfortable  settling  down  to  life.  Somehow  the  touch 
needed,  which  shall  move  all  this  power  into  the  region  of  moral 
life; — there  is  where  it  seems  powerless  now.  The  old  para- 
dox of  much  religion  and  no  morality,  which  we  settle  far  too 
easily  and  off-handedly  when  we  decide  that  the  religion  is 
hypocrisy." 

"The  only  advantage  in  the  multitudinousness  of  denomina- 
tions in  India  is  the  chance  that  it  may  leave  the  question  open 
for  the  promotion  of  the  national  Christianity.  Perhaps  there 
was  no  other  possible  way  for  this  to  come  about  but  by  the  vari- 
ety of  approach,  making  the  establishment  of  any  one  type  impos- 
sible,— the  way  this  possibly  might  impress  a  Hindu." 

"Certainly  the  change  to  the  newer  forms  of  appeals  for  mis- 
sions involves  the  confidence  in  a  higher  condition,  in  the  work- 
ing of  better  and  nobler  motives  in  those  to  whom  we  appeal.  It 
may  be  a  question  whether  men  are  ready  for  it,  but  here,  as 
always,  I  believe  very  much  in  the  possibility  of  making  them  to 
be  by  assuming  that  they  are.  Certainly  we  see  the  reverse  of 
this  constantly.  Men  are  made  unfit  for  high  appeals  by  the 
assumption  that  they  can  only  respond  to  the  lower." 

"One  high  appeal  for  missions  ought  to  be  the  need  of  Chris- 
tianity for  a  broader  and  completer  life, — what  these  other 
people  will  do  for  our  Christianity  if  they  become  Christians.  I 
think  we  often  understand  missions  best  if  we  think  of  the  con- 
verting power,  and  that  which  it  tries  to  convert,  as  individuals 
rather  than  vague  masses.  Surely  one  man  may  say  to  another, 
'I  want  you  to  believe  my  truth,  partly  in  order  that  by  the  way 
in  which  it  influences  you  and  by  the  form  in  which  your  mind 


SPAIN  405 

apprehends  it  I  may  be  able  to  see  new  sides  of  it  and  understand 
its  richness  more." 

"The  reconstruction  and  simplification  of  Christian  theology 
is  imperatively  demanded  by  missions.  Indeed  the  missionaries 
are  quietly  doing  it,  almost  unconsciously  doing  it,  themselves. 
Christianity  as  a  book  religion,  resting  on  the  infallible  accuracy 
of  a  written  word,  or  as  a  propitiatory  religion,  providing  a  mere 
escape  for  hopeless  culprits,  or  as  a  doctrinal  religion,  depending 
on  the  originality  of  some  statements  of  truth,  all  of  these  aspects 
of  it  fade ;  and  Christianity  as  a  personal  faith  revealing  in  Christ, 
not  simply  by  Him,  the  present  living  fatherhood  of  God,  becomes 
the  powerful  and  precious  substance  of  our  faith." 

The  return  from  India  began  on  the  7th  of  March.  During  the 
three  weeks  on  shipboard,  until  he  reached  Gibraltar,  he  was 
reading  books  on  Spain,  which  he  found  in  the  ship's  library;  but 
his  journal  shows  a  mind  preoccupied,  musing  over  what  he  had 
seen  in  India.  As  a  corrective  for  the  wild  extravagances  of 
Indian  religion,  he  read  Robertson  Smith  on  the  Place  of  the 
Old  Testament  in  Jewish  History,  and  his  Hebrew  Prophets. 
In  his  note-book  he  entered  these  reflections : 

"The  voyage  from  India  to  Spain  carries  one  from  the  extreme 
east  to  the  extreme  west  of  the  triumphs  of  Islam.  The  Mo- 
guls of  Delhi  and  the  Caliphs  of  Cordova!  what  a  range  of  energy, 
what  a  history  of  struggle  and  suffering,  of  pride  and  ruin,  is 
included!  " 

"As  one  withdraws  from  India  it  is  very  much  indeed  as  it  used 
to  be  when  one  walked  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  old 
Sivite  temples,  in  the  southern  districts,  Madura  or  Tanjore. 
Gradually  the  grotesque  details  were  lost.  The  dancing  and  dis- 
torted gods  became  obscure.  The  crude,  hard  colors  mingled  into 
harmony,  the  harsh  sounds  melted  into  a  confused  and  pleasing 
murmur,  and  a  quiet  mystery,  not  unmixed  with  religious  serious- 
ness, enfolded  and  dignified  the  whole. 

"So  it  is  with  that  mass  of  legend,  allegory,  and  corrupt  tradi- 
tion, which,  taken  all  together,  makes  the  religion  and  philosophy 
of  India.  It  has  large  masses  of  color  and  not  ignoble  outlines, 
as  one  looks  back  on  it  fading  and  mingling  into  memory." 

"Steamship  Verona,  between  Colombo  and  Aden, 

"March  13,  1883. 

"Dear  Arthur, — I  am  on  the  way  back  from  India  and  you 
have  no  idea  what  soft  and  brilliant  days  these  are  upon  the 
southern  seas.     And  it  is  a  good  time  to  think  the  whole  thing 


4o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

over,  and  to  get  ready  for  the  next  scene  in  the  play.  The  last 
thing  before  we  sailed  was  Ceylon,  with  its  Buddhism.  Ceylon 
was  beautiful  beyond  all  description.  Such  tropical  luxuriance 
as  one  had  dreamed  of  all  his  life  was  in  its  splendor,  and  made 
pictures  which  one  never  can  forget.  And  Ceylon  Buddhism  had 
a  look  of  intelligence  and  decency  after  the  horrible  squalor  and 
coarseness  of  Hinduism,  which  was  very  pleasing.  A  very  differ- 
ent thing  it  is  from  the  fetish  worship  of  Thibetan  Buddhism,  of 
which  we  got  a  sight  among  the  Himalayas.  But  as  for  making 
of  it  a  great  spiritual  religion,  with  any  chance  in  it  for  the 
salvation  of  the  world,  it  is  too  hopelessly  absurd.  Primitive 
Buddhism  was  a  philosophy  with  controlling  ethical  purpose. 
Modern  Buddhism  has  changed  it  into  elaborate  ceremonialism, 
and  invented  for  it  a  mythology.  But  there  is  no  theism  in  either, 
and  in  spite  of  the  charm  of  'Natural  Religion,'1  there  is  no 
powerful  faith  without  theistic  basis.  What  a  delightful  book 
that  is !  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of  word- 
juggling  in  it,  and  that  what  it  needs  is  a  clearer  definition. 
But  to  bring  out  as  it  does  the  noble  and  consecrated  side  of 
'modern  thought,'  and  to  show  how  it  gravitates  at  its  best 
towards  spirituality ,  is  a  great  boon.  One  grows  very  impatient 
at  the  way  the  selfish  trader  with  a  wooden  faith  is  counted  a 
more  spiritual  being  than  the  self-forgetful  student  of  truth  or 
worshipper  of  humanity.  It  is  good  to  have  such  a  strong 
statement  of  the  other  side." 

As  the  Verona  was  crawling  through  the  Suez  Canal,  subject 
to  vexatious  detentions,  Mr.  Brooks  spent  much  of  his  time  in 
answering  letters  received  from  home  before  leaving  India.  He 
had  been  kept  informed  of  the  incidents  at  Trinity  Church;  the 
names  of  the  preachers  sent  to  him  in  advance  had  enabled  him 
to  reproduce  every  Sunday  "the  scene  in  the  blessed  old  church ; " 
he  read  with  special  interest  the  list  of  those  confirmed  in  his 
absence.  He  had  followed  the  meetings  of  the  Clericus  Club. 
Of  the  new  members  elected  in  his  absence  he  writes: 

"You  seem  to  be  enlarging  the  Club  with  youngsters,  so  that 
one  will  hardly  know  it  after  a  year's  absence.  Every  now  and 
then  I  feel  a  touch  of  intimation  that  I  am  growing  old,  in  a  bit 
of  wonder  whether  these  young  fellows  are  good  for  much;  but 
generally  I  am  ready  to  acknowledge  their  value,  and  I  am  glad 
that  the  Church  and  the  Club  should  get  them  in.  Only  in  the 
Club  we  never  have  got  much  out  of  the  youngest  men.  They 
have   generally   seemed  to  be  there  more  for  their  own    sake 

>  Natural  Religion,  by  the  author  of  Ecce  Homo,  18S2. 


SPAIN  407 

than   for  the  Club's.     But  perhaps  your  new  acquisitions  will 
do  better." 

Among  the  items  of  religious  interest  was  the  publication 
of  a  volume  of  sermons  by  Rev.  R.  Heber  Newton  of  New  York, 
entitled  Right  and  Wrong  Uses  of  the  Bible.  After  reading  the 
sermons  he  speaks  of  them  as  "calm,  serious,  and  conscientious," 
as  saying,  "what,  in  the  great  mass  of  it,  I  have  no  doubt  is  true 
and  once  accepted  by  the  Christian  world  must  make  the  basis 
of  a  better  Christianity.  No  criticism  of  small  points  of  style, 
or  discussion  of  the  accuracy  of  a  few  details  of  criticism,  can 
obscure  the  broad  view  of  inspiration  and  the  relation  of  the 
Book  both  to  God  and  man,  which  the  sermons  declare." 

"The  whole  theological  world  seems  to  be  wakening  to  the 
need  of  a  new  discussion  and  settlement  about  its  sacred  Book. 
And  no  mischief  can  begin  to  equal  the  mischief  which  must  come 
from  the  obstinate  dishonesty  of  men  who  refuse  to  recognize  any 
of  the  new  light  which  has  been  thrown  upon  the  Bible,  and  go 
on  repeating  assertions  about  it  which,  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
proof,  have  been  thoroughly  and  repeatedly  disproved.  These 
are  the  men  whom  the  church  in  future  must  look  back  upon 
with  reproach,  and  almost  with  contempt.  So  the  thing  looks 
to  me  from  the  Suez  Canal." 

When  he  reached  Madrid,  on  his  journey  through  Spain, 
he  learned  of  the  death  of  two  of  his  aunts,  his  mother's  sisters, 
who  resided  in  the  old  house  at  North  Andover.  To  his  brother 
William  he  writes: 

"Madrid,  April  15,  1883. 

"It  seems  as  if  this  great  change  swept  away  from  the  world 
the  last  remnants  of  the  background  of  our  earliest  life.  Even 
after  father  and  mother  went,  as  long  as  Aunt  Susan  lived,  there 
was  somebody  who  had  to  do  with  us  when  we  were  babies.  Now 
that  generation  has  all  passed  away.  How  many  old  scenes  it 
brings  up.  This  is  Sunday  morning,  right  after  breakfast,  and 
it  seems  as  if  I  could  see  a  Sunday  morning  of  the  old  times  in 
Rowe  Street,  with  a  general  bustle  of  mother  and  Aunt  Susan 
getting  off  to  Sunday  school,  and  father  settling  down  to  read  to 
the  bigger  boys  in  the  front  parlor. 

"As  it  may  be  that  before  I  come  home  the  old  house  will  be 
left  empty,  and  something  have  to  be  done  about  the  property, 
I  want  to  say  that  I  should  like  to  buy  it,  and  I  authorize  you  to 
buy  it  for  me,  if  the  chance  offers.  ...  I  should  like  to  hold  it 


4o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

as  a  place  where,  for  the  whole  or  part  of  the  summer,  we  could 
gather  and  have  a  delightful,  easy  time,  among  the  most  sacred 
associations  which  remain  for  us  on  earth.  A  few  very  simple 
improvements  would  make  it  a  most  charming  place,  so  do  not 
by  any  chance  let  it  slip,  and  hold,  by  purchase  or  otherwise,  to 
as  much  of  the  furniture  as  you  can.  One  of  these  days,  when 
I  am  a  little  older  and  feebler,  I  should  like  to  retire  to  it  and 
succeed  [Rev.]  Augustine  Amory  at  the  little  church.  Is  not  our 
window  done  there  yet?" 

In  Spain  the  pictures  of  Velasquez,  which  he  saw  in  their  ful- 
ness for  the  first  time,  were  the  principal  objects  of  interest.  At 
Burgos  he  found  in  one  of  the  towers  of  the  cathedral  what  he 
thought  must  have  furnished  the  suggestion  to  Richardson  for 
the  tower  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston.  He  speaks  of  Burgos  as 
a  wilderness  of  architectural  delight. 

"  Madrid,  April  28,  1883. 
"If  you  were  only  here  we  would  begin  at  once  with  the  Velas- 
quez pictures,  which  I  shall  see  to-day  for  the  last  time  and  which 
are  famous.  They  stand  away  up  alongside  of  Tintoretto's  in 
Venice  for  every  great  quality  except  that  high  religious  exalta- 
tion which  is  in  the  Crucifixion  at  St.  Rocco  and  one  or  two  other 
things  which  we  saw  last  summer  in  those  golden  days.  As  to 
the  rest  of  Spain  it  is  delightful,  but  one  would  rather  go  to  all  the 
other  great  countries  of  Europe  first.  The  Moorish  work,  the  Al- 
hambra,  and  all  that,  is  wonderful ;  but  as  for  Gothic  and  the  great 
cathedrals,  you  who  have  seen  Chartres  and  Strassburg  and 
Cologne  need  not  worry  yourself  at  all  about  Seville  and  Granada 
and  Saragossa  and  Toledo.  .  .  .  We  were  right  last  summer 
and  the  dear  streets  of  Pisa  and  Ravenna  and  Bologna  were  better 
than  anything  we  should  have  seen  in  sultry  Spain.  .  .  ." 

On  June  8th  Mr.  Brooks  arrived  in  England.  He  had  received 
many  invitations  asking  him  to  preach  in  London,  and  especially 
in  the  cathedral  churches.  The  Bishop  of  London  sent  him  a 
courteous  permission  to  preach  in  his  diocese,  expressing,  at  the 
same  time,  the  desire  that  he  would  accept  as  many  invitations 
as  possible.  He  was  also  personally  invited  by  the  Bishop  of 
London  to  preach  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  on  Hospital  Sunday. 
His  appointments  were  widely  advertised  in  the  London  papers. 
The  following  extract  from  a  letter  by  a  person  unknown  to  him 
has  a  familiar  sound : 


ENGLAND 

"A  friend  and  I  went  twelve  miles  yesterday  to  the  Savoy 
Chapel,  where  you  were  advertised  to  preach,  but  were  bitterly 
disappointed  at  being  unable  to  get  even  standing  room,  although 
we  were  at  the  church  door  half  an  hour  before  the  service  began. 
I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  boldness  if  I  ask  whether  you  would 
be  so  kind  as  to  let  me  know  by  post-card  if  you  are  going  to 
preach  anywhere  during  this  week ;  for,  if  so,  we  should  so  much 
like  to  make  another  attempt  to  hear  you." 

Dr.  Farrar,  Archdeacon  of  Westminster,  and  others  also, 
made  the  suggestion  that  he  should  be  more  deliberate  in  speak- 
ing. To  the  English  people  his  rapidity  was  more  trying  than 
to  his  compatriots.  Yet  Dean  Stanley  saw  in  it  one  source  of  his 
power,  comparing  him  to  "an  express  train  going  to  its  appointed 
terminus  with  majestic  speed,  and  sweeping  every  obstacle,  one 
after  another,  out  of  his  course."  In  England,  as  in  America, 
he  was  the  despair  of  reporters,  owing  not  only  to  the  rapid- 
ity of  his  utterance,  but  to  the  bewildering  rush  of  the  thought 
as  well. 

Apart  from  the  public  honors  shown  him,  Mr.  Brooks  was  the 
recipient  of  generous  hospitality,  combined  with  a  thoughtful 
kindness  and  constant  acts  of  courtesy,  wholly  unanticipated, 
which  made  every  day  of  his  two  months  in  England  a  refresh- 
ment and  delight.  He  had  an  invitation  to  visit  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  English  rectories,  in  Surrey,  where  he  might  see 
English  clerical  life  from  its  highest  ideal  side,  illustrating  the 
best  aspect  of  the  union  of  Church  and  State.  From  Lord  Ab- 
erdeen there  came  an  invitation,  giving  him  a  special  opportu- 
nity to  meet  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  had  been  reading  his  sermons 
with  great  interest.  He  went  down  to  the  Tower  with  a  party  of 
government  people, — Gladstone  and  Forster  and  Bright.  He 
met  Browning  for  the  second  time;  and  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold, 
whose  poetry  he  had  first  read  many  years  before. 

Mr.  Hallam  Tennyson  (now  Lord  Tennyson),  gave  him  an  invi- 
tation to  visit  his  father  at  Farringford,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  He 
was  able  to  devote  only  one  day  to  the  visit,  but  in  that  time  he  had 
the  poet  much  to  himself.  Of  his  visit  he  writes :  "  When  the  day- 
light was  over,  having  come  to  know  me  pretty  well,  he  wanted  to 
know  if  I  smoked,  and  we  went  up  to  the  study, — a  big,  bright, 
crowded  room,  where  he  writes  his  Idyls,  and  there  we  stayed 
till  dinner  time."     Then  once  more, — 


4io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"After  dinner  Tennyson  and  I  went  up  to  the  study,  and  I  had 
him  to  myself  for  two  or  three  hours.  We  smoked,  and  he  talked 
of  metaphysics  and  poetry  and  religion,  his  own  life,  and  Hal- 
lam,  and  all  the  poems.  It  was  very  delightful  and  reverent 
and  tender  and  hopeful.  Then  we  went  down  to  the  drawing- 
room,  where  the  rest  were,  and  he  read  his  poetry  to  us  till  the 
clock  said  twelve, — 'Locksley  Hall,'  'Sir  Galahad,'  pieces  of 
'Maud,'  and  some  of  his  dialect  poems." 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  as  Tennyson  and  Mr. 
Brooks  were  taking  a  walk  together,  he  charged  him  with  secrecy 
as  to  their  conversation  the  previous  evening.  Tennyson  had 
asked  Mr.  Brooks  to  pay  him  another  visit  at  his  home,  Aldworth, 
Haslemere,  Surrey.  When  he  returned  there  from  a  voyage  to 
Copenhagen,  it  was  to  learn  that  Mr.  Brooks  had  gone  back  to 
America.  He  then  wrote,  saying  that  he  was  grieved  to  know 
that  he  had  recrossed  the  Atlantic,  and  that  he  should  not  see 
him  again,  closing  his  letter  with  a  sentence  which  shows  that  he 
liked  Phillips  Brooks:  "The  few  hours  that  I  spent  at  Fresh- 
water in  your  company  will  always  be  present  with  me."  After 
this,  whenever  Brooks  was  in  England,  he  made  a  visit  to 
Tennyson. 

"  Brooks  was  impressed  with  the  way  in  which  Browning  threw 
himself,  with  gayety  and  cheerfulness,  into  the  light  conversation 
of  the  moment,  interested  in  amusing  anecdotes  current  in  Lon- 
don society,  sharing  heartily  the  pleasure  of  the  hour,  but  never 
alluding  to  any  intellectual  problems.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
found  Tennyson  always  opening  up  a  large  philosophic  view  of 
life  and  its  problems,  sometimes  in  tones  of  sadness,  occasionally 
in  a  cheerful  optimistic  spirit,  but  always  philosophizing." 

"  In  speaking  of  one  of  his  visits  to  Tennyson,  he  told  how  the 
poet,  when  reading  aloud  his  own  poems,  would  sometimes  praise 
or  criticise  them  as  though  they  were  the  work  of  another.  On 
one  occasion  he  asked,  'What  shall  I  read?'  'Read  "Locksley 
Hall,"  '  Brooks  replied, — 'the  poem  that  stirred  us  all  when  we 
were  young.'     When  Tennyson  reached  the  lines — 

'Love  took  up  the  glass  of  Time,  and  turned  it  in  his  glowing  hands; 
Every  moment,  lightly  shaken,  ran  itself  in  golden  sands,' 

he  called  attention  to  it  as  being  the  most  perfect  poetic  image 
in  his  poems.  But  when  Brooks  claimed  that  the  imagery  was 
equally  good  in  the  lines: 

'Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords  with  might; 
Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  pass'd  in  music  out  of  sight,' 


ENGLAND  4" 

Tennyson  insisted  that  it  was  inferior  to  the  other, — lacking, 
as  he  said,  '  its  Greek  simplicity  and  pictured  clearness.'  '  The 
figure  of  the  harp  of  life,'  he  said,  'is  too  subjective  and  com- 
plicated in  its  implications; — no,  the  other  is  the  best.' 

"It  was  characteristic  of  Brooks  that  he  should  have  felt  more 
sympathy  with  the  spiritually  suggestive  figure  of  the  harp  of 
life  than  with  the  '  Greek  simplicity  of  the  glass  of  time." 

"  Brooks  mentioned  his  surprise  at  Tennyson's  confusion  and 
perplexity  in  speaking  of  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity  as  compared 
with  the  clearness  of  his  '  religious  theism,'  and  his  faith  in  im- 
mortality. He  quoted  Tennyson  as  saying  that  '  matter  is  more 
mysterious  than  mind.  His  mind  one  knows  well  enough,  but 
cannot  get  hold  of  the  thought  of  body.'  " 

A  few  extracts  from  letters  follow  in  which  Brooks  gives  his 
impression  regarding  the  theological  situation: 

"Stopford  Brooke  is  declaring  in  a  hearty  way  that  Broad 
Church  is  dead  and  that  free  thought  in  the  establishment  is  an 
impossibility,  is  talking  of  giving  up  preaching  and  taking  to 
writing  a  history  of  English  literature,  which  he  would  do  finely. 
Meanwhile  all  the  choir  boys  in  England  have  chanted  the  Atha- 
nasian  creed  for  the  last  two  Sundays,  and  hundreds  of  clerical 
consciences  have  been  torn  to  pieces. 

"I  have  been  spending  an  hour  in  Convocation,  where  that 
very  troublesome  creature,  the  Deceased  Wife's  Sister,  was  vex- 
ing the  souls  of  deans  and  archdeacons.  The  debates  in  the 
House  of  Lords  about  her  have  been  very  curious.  For  the  pres- 
ent she  is  rejected,  and  we  must  not  marry  her.  But,  in  the  end, 
she  will  get  her  rights.  " 

"In  London  the  other  day,  at  Llewelyn  Davies's,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  how  dolefully  he  and  other  men  talked  about  the 
prospects  of  liberal  theology  in  the  Church  of  England.  Davies 
and  Abbott  (E.  A.)  and  the  bishop  of  Manchester,  who  were 
there,  declared  the  whole  Maurician  and  Broad  Church  movement 
a  failure;  Farrar  said  the  same  thing  in  his  cheery,  doleful  way, 

Plumptre  also,  and ,  of  whom,  perhaps,  it  might  have  been 

expected,  and  who  is  the  same  absurd,  inconsequential  creature 
that  he  was.  The  older  men  of  it  seemed  to  be  clinging  to  a 
remote  history  back  in  the  days  of  Frederick  Maurice,  and  the 
younger  men  to  belong  to  that  school  of  secularized  clergy,  which 
I  know  you  dread  as  much  as  I  do,  and  to  be  clutching  at  any- 
thing,— art,  music,  ecclesiasticism,  sociology,  anything  to  get  a 
power  over  people  which  they  earnestly  wanted,  but  seemed  to 
see  no  power  in  religion  to  attain.  I  went  to  a  meeting  of  the 
F.  D.  M.  Club,  of  which  I  was  made  an  honorary  member.     It 


4i2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

was  presided  over  by  Mr.  Ludlow,  and  we  had  Hughes  and  Davies 
and  Maurice's  son  for  fellow-members,  but  the  whole  effect  was 
not  inspiring.  The  debate  was  about  how  Maurice  would  have 
regarded  the  modern  socialism  of  Henry  George  and  others,  and 
how  they,  as  Mauricians,  ought  to  stand  towards  it.  Maurice 
seemed  to  be  a  name  to  conjure  with  more  than  an  influence  upon 
their  thought.  Of  course,  there  were  many  good  things  said, 
especially  by  Davies,  whom  I  though  .  one  of  the  best  and  most 
interesting  men  that  I  saw  in  England." 

The  London  season  was  over  by  the  middle  of  July.  The  year 
of  wandering  was  drawing  to  its  close,  but  a  month  remained 
before  he  sailed  for  America.  He  had  been  joined  in  London  by 
his  friend  Mr.  R.  T.  Paine,  and  together  they  departed  for  the 
continent.  They  stopped  at  Chartres  and  Bordeaux,  and  at 
Pau,  near  the  Pyrenees.  He  writes,  "The  curtain  has  fallen  and 
risen  again;  the  whole  scene  has  changed."  After  a  "splendid 
Pyrenean  week,"  including  a  trip  to  Lourdes,  which  reminded 
him  of  the  Ganges  at  Benares,  he  came  to  Geneva,  where  he  seems 
to  have  been  chiefly  interested  in  getting  impressions  of  Voltaire. 
One  night  was  spent  at  the  Grand  Chartreuse : 

"There  are  about  forty  fathers  there,  Carthusians,  in  their  pic- 
turesque white  cloaks  and  cowls.  Solitude  and  silence  is  their 
rule.  They  spend  the  bulk  of  their  time  in  their  cells,  where  they 
are  supposed  to  be  meditating.  I  suspect  that  the  old  gentlemen 
go  to  sleep.  There  was  a  strange  ghostly  service,  which  began 
at  a  quarter  before  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  lasted  until  two 
in  the  morning.  The  chapel  was  dim  and  misty;  the  white  fig- 
ures came  gliding  in  and  sat  in  a  long  row,  and  held  dark  lan- 
terns up  before  their  psalters  and  chanted  away  at  their  psalms 
like  a  long  row  of  singing  mummies.  It  made  ycu  want  to  run 
out  in  the  yard  and  have  a  game  of  ball  to  break  the  spell.  In- 
stead of  that,  after  watching  it  for  half  an  hour,  we  crept  back 
along  a  vast  corridor  to  the  cells  which  had  been  allotted  us,  each 
with  its  priedieu  and  its  crucifix,  and  went  to  bed  in  the  hardest, 
shortest,  and  lumpiest  of  beds.  In  the  morning  a  good  deal  of 
the  romance  and  awfulness  was  gone,  but  it  was  very  fine  and 
interesting,  and  the  drive  down  into  the  valley  on  the  other  side 
at  Chambery  was  as  pretty  as  a  whole  gallery  of  pictures." 

From  Geneva  he  went  to  Miirren,  thence  to  Interlaken  and 
Lucerne,  and  through  the  St.  Gothard  tunnel  to  Italy.  From 
Italy  he  came  back  through  the  Tyrol,  calling  up  his  old  associa- 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON  413 

tions  with  the  Dolomites.  He  stopped  at  Trent  and  meditated 
on  the  famous  council.  At  Brixlegg,  a  little  village  near  Inns- 
bruck, he  was  present  at  the  performance  of  the  Passion  Play, 
which  he  had  once  failed  to  see  in  its  more  elaborate  form 
at  Ober-Ammergau.  Then  he  felt  that  he  was  setting  his 
face  homeward,  as  he  travelled  rapidly  from  Munich  to  Paris, 
and  from  Paris  to  London,  whence  he  sailed  for  America,  on 
September  12. 


& 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

1883. 

THE  RETURN  TO  BOSTON.  EXTRACTS  FROM  SER- 
MONS. ADDRESS  ON  LUTHER.  CORRESPONDENCE. 
EXTRACTS    FROM    JOURNAL. 

Mr.  Brooks  arrived  in  Boston  on  Saturday,  the  2 2d  of  Sep- 
tember; on  the  following  Sunday  he  stood  in  his  place  in  Trinity 
Church. 

"A  large  number  of  men  and  women  met  him  at  the  Cunard 
Wharf  in  East  Boston  as  the  Cephaionia  arrived.  Some  of  them 
had  chartered  a  tug  and  boarded  the  steamer  off  Boston  Light. 
She  reached  the  pier  about  half  past  four  in  the  afternoon;  Mr. 
Brooks  held  an  impromptu  reception  on  board,  and  landed  about 
five.  He  preached  yesterday  forenoon  to  a  congregation  which 
filled  Trinity  Church  to  overflowing.  He  stands  vigorous,  hale, 
and  portly  as  ever,  but  his  head  has  become  plentifully  sprinkled 
with  gray,  so  that  the  change  strikes  one  the  instant  of  beholding 
him.  The  text  of  his  sermon  was  I  Cor. ,  i. ,  6 :  '  Even  as  the  testi- 
mony of  Christ  was  confirmed  in  you.'" 

The  text  had  been  in  his  mind  while  in  India.  On  the  voyage 
homeward,  as  he  passed  through  the  Indian  Ocean  or  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea,  he  was  writing  notes  of  what  he  would  say.  The 
sermon  was  spoken  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  as  he  stood 
in  the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church,  after  more  than  a  year  of  silence. 

"  I  must  not  seem  to  be  pouring  out  on  you  on  this  first  morning 
the  flood  of  preaching  that  has  been  accumulating  through 
a  whole  year  of  silence.  But  I  have  wanted  to  ask  you  to  think 
with  me  of  how  the  key  of  the  world's  life,  and  of  every  Chris- 
tian's experience,  lies  deep  in  that  Incarnation  which  it  is  the 
privilege  of  the  Christian  pulpit  to  proclaim  and  preach.  If 
what  I  have  been  saying  to  you  is  true,  then  that  great  manifes- 

414 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON  415 

tation  of  God  must  be  preaching  itself  forever.  All  history,  all 
life,  must  be  struggling  to  confirm  the  Testimony  of  Christ.  .  .  . 
I  will  take  up  again,  enthusiastically,  the  preaching  of  that  Christ 
who  is  always  preaching  Himself  in  wonderful,  and  powerful,  and 
tender  ways,  even  to  hearts  that  seem  to  hear  Him  least. 

"To  those  who  do  hear  Him  and  receive  Him  there  comes  a 
peace  and  strength,  a  patience  to  bear,  an  energy  to  work,  which 
is  to  the  soul  itself  a  perpetual  surprise  and  joy,  a  hope  unquench- 
able, a  love  for  and  a  belief  in  fellow-man  that  nothing  can  dis- 
turb, and,  around  all,  as  the  great  element  of  all,  a  certainty  of 
God's  encircling  love  to  us  which  conquers  sin  and  welcomes  sor- 
row, and  laughs  at  Death  and  already  lives  in  Immortality. 
What  shall  we  say  of  it  that  is  not  in  the  words  of  Christ's  be- 
loved disciple,  who  knows  it  all  so  well,  'To  as  many  as  receive 
Him,  to  them  gives  He  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God.' 

"Let  us  say,  then,  to  one  another,  'Sursum  corda  !  Lift  up 
your  hearts!'  Let  us  answer  back  to  one  another,  'We  do  lift 
them  up  unto  the  Lord' ;  and  so  let  us  go  forward  together  into 
whatever  new  life  He  has  set  before  us." 

There  was  a  change,  it  has  been  said,  in  the  appearance  of  Phil- 
lips Brooks,  when  he  was  seen  again  in  the  pulpit,  after  his  long 
absence.  It  required  an  effort  to  be  reconciled  to  the  altered 
aspect.  He  was  thinner  in  form,  also,  having  lost  weight  while 
in  India.  He  had  said  as  he  was  contemplating  the  possibilities 
which  his  year  abroad  presented,  "Every  now  and  then  it  comes 
over  me  that  the  gap  is  to  be  so  great  that  the  future,  if  there  is 
any,  will  certainly  be  something  different  in  some  way  from  the 
past."  His  manner  showed  the  difference,  and  was  not  quite 
the  same. 

The  great  change  was  in  his  preaching.  He  was  entering  upon 
the  third  and  last  phase  in  his  development.  In  the  first,  which 
included  his  ministry  in  Philadelphia,  he  had  written  his  most 
beautiful  sermons,  full  of  the  poetry  of  life,  unfolding  the  divine 
allegory  of  human  history, — a  great  artist,  himself  unmoved  as 
he  unrolled  the  panorama  of  man.  In  the  second  period,  he  had 
been  at  war  with  the  forces  which  were  undermining  faith;  yet 
always  appearing  like  a  tower  of  strength.  That  period  was  over 
now.  He  had  felt  while  abroad  a  subtle  change  in  the  spiritual 
atmosphere,  modifying  the  situation.  There  was  improvement 
visible  from  the  highest  outlook.  The  mechanical  theory  of  the 
world  was  yielding  to  the  evidences  of  faith.     He  met  with  his 


4i6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

old  force  belated  travellers  who  had  not  noted  the  new  signs  in 
the  spiritual  horizon.  But  to  speak  to  the  new  age  was  now  his 
distinctive  mission.  His  preaching  changed  to  correspond  to  the 
change  within.  He  addressed  himself  in  his  totality  as  a  man 
to  the  common  humanity,  doing  greatly  whatever  he  did,  and 
assuming  the  greatness  of  those  to  whom  he  spoke.  He  fell  back 
upon  the  simplest  issues  of  life ;  the  simplest  truths  were  the  main 
themes  of  his  teaching.  He  illustrated  the  truth  of  Goethe's 
remark,  "Whatever  a  man  doth  greatly,  he  does  with  his  whole 
nature."  In  his  Lectures  on  Preaching,  he  had  said  that  "the 
thought  of  rescue  has  monopolized  our  religion  and  often  crowded 
out  the  thought  of  culture."  The  idea  of  rescue  now  became 
more  prominent,  but  it  was  the  rescue  of  men  from  the  danger 
of  losing  the  great  opportunity  of  life.  This  may  have  been 
the  ground  of  his  remark  that  he  had  but  one  sermon.  He 
said  to  one  of  his  friends  that  he  had  given  up  writing  essays 
and  was  going  to  preach  sermons.  It  seemed  to  others  that  he 
had  been  preaching  sermons;  but  he  saw  deeper  depths  in  ser- 
mons, which  he  proposed  to  fathom.  He  had  not  grown 
indifferent  to  the  intellectual  problems.  He  followed  them  with 
interest  and  took  his  part  in  their  discussion.  He  retained  his 
allegiance  to  the  old  formulas  of  belief.  But  the  full  truth  was 
something  larger  than  the  intellect  could  adequately  formulate. 
Meantime  the  highest  duty  of  man  was  to  live,  in  the  full  sense 
of  the  word,  as  apostles  and  evangelists,  as  Christ  himself,  had 
used  it.  To  help  men  to  live  in  this  sense  became  his  ruling  pas- 
sion in  every  sermon.  There  were  occasional  sermons  when  his 
creative  genius  flashed  living  pictures  upon  the  canvas,  as  of  old, 
before  his  hearers.  But  these  were  not  so  common  as  before. 
His  method  of  preaching  became  more  frequently  extempora- 
neous, when  he  was  free  to  pour  himself  forth  without  regard  to 
form  of  utterance.  He  allowed  more  range  to  the  impassioned 
feeling,  and  he  showed  signs  of  being  visibly  moved  by  his  own 
emotion,  instead  of  standing,  as  in  his  early  years,  cool  and  un- 
moved, while  his  hearers  were  thrilled  with  excitement.  Yet 
in  this  latter  phase  of  his  life  he  was  listened  to  more  intently 
than  ever;  there  was  an  added  element  of  awe,  as  the  man  in 
himself  stood  revealed  in  every  sermon.  He  came  closer  to  his 
world  and  dearer  to  the  hearts  of  all  the  people.     There  was  no 


SERMONS  417 

longer  any  question  about  his  greatness.  He  had  made  the 
final  conquest.  It  had  dawned  upon  him  that  what  the  people 
wanted  was  himself,  not  his  eloquence,  or  his  gifts.  There  were 
still  before  him  greater  depths  of  self-abnegation,  to  be  met  by 
an  ever  larger  demand  on  the  part  of  the  people.  This  was  the 
way  in  which  saints  had  been  recognized  in  the  olden  time.  The 
canonization  of  Phillips  Brooks  by  the  people's  voice  had  now 
begun. 

In  a  sermon  preached  on  September  30th,  the  second  Sunday 
after  his  return,  we  have  Phillips  Brooks  communing  with 
himself  as  he  takes  up  the  burden  of  life  anew.  This  chapter 
from  his  own  experience,  for  such  in  reality  it  is,  he  has  entitled 
"  Visions  and  Tasks;  "  his  text,  "  While  Peter  thought  on  the  vis- 
ion, the  Spirit  said,  Behold,  three  men  seek  thee."  There  was  the 
possibility  that  the  vision  might  fade  as  the  emotions  grew  less 
vivid.  The  remedy  was  in  action.  The  picture  is  that  of  Peter 
after  the  vision  has  ended,  plodding  over  the  dusty  hills  to  meet 
the  men  who  were  seeking  him.  The  practical  life  is  needed  in 
order  to  complete  the  meditative  life.  When  a  man  has  had  his 
vision  of  some  great  truth  which  satisfies  his  soul,  the  coming 
of  his  fellow-men,  and  their  knocking  at  the  doors  of  his  heart, 
seems  at  first  like  an  intrusion.  "Why  can  they  not  leave  him 
alone  with  his  great  idea?"  So  ideas  would  hover  like  a  great 
vague  cloud  over  a  world  all  hard  and  gross  and  meaningless,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  man  who  brings  the  fire  down  and  makes 
the  whole  of  nature  significant  and  vocal.  He  himself  had  seen 
a  vision  which  had  faded  and  he  was  speaking  from  his  own 
experience : 

"  It  is  in  the  power  of  man  to  stand  between  the  abstract  truth 
upon  one  side  and  the  concrete  facts  of  life  upon  the  other.  To 
this  end  he  must  cultivate  the  two  capacities  within  him, — the 
gift  of  knowing  and  the  gift  of  loving.  In  some  way  he  must 
still  cultivate  the  capacity  of  knowing,  whether  by  patient  study 
or  quick-leaping  intuition,  including  imagination  and  all  the 
poetic  power,  faith,  trust  in  authority,  the  faculty  of  getting  wis- 
dom by  experience,  everything  by  which  the  human  nature  comes 
into  direct  relationship  to  truth.  On  the  other  hand,  he  must 
cultivate  love,  the  power  of  sympathetic  intercourse  with  things 
and  people,  the  power  to  be  touched  by  the  personal  nature  of 
those  with  whom  we  have  to  do, — love,  therefore,  including  hate, 
27 


4i8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

for  hate  is  only  the  reverse  utterance  of  love.  These  two  together, 
the  powers  of  knowing  and  of  loving,  must  make  up  the  man,  and 
must  work  together  also  in  all  men  in  order  to  a  genuine  man- 
hood. It  is  not  a,  question  of  greatness,  but  of  genuineness  and 
completeness.  .  .  .  This  was  the  characteristic  of  Christ,  that 
He  was  full  of  grace  and  truth;  no  rapt  self-centred  student  of 
the  abstract  truth,  nor  the  sentimental  pitier  of  other  men's  woes. 
He  comes  down  from  the  mountain  where  He  had  been  glorified 
with  the  light  of  God  to  meet  the  men  who  were  seeking  Him. 

"It  is  the  result  of  some  great  experience,  also,  in  the  life  of  a 
man  that  it  makes  him  a  purer  medium  through  which  the 
highest  truth  shines  on  other  men.  Henceforth  he  is  altered; 
he  becomes  tenderer,  warmer,  richer;  he  seems  to  be  full  of 
truths  and  revelations  which  he  easily  pours  out.  Now  you  not 
merely  see  him,  you  see  through  him  to  things  behind.  It  is  not 
that  he  has  learned  some  new  facts,  but  the  very  substance  of  the 
man  is  altered,  so  that  he  stands  no  longer  as  a  screen,  but  as  an 
atmosphere  through  which  eternal  truths  come  to  you  all 
radiant." 

As  Phillips  Brooks  enters  upon  this  new  stage  of  his  his- 
tory he  casts  a  backward  glance  at  the  possibilities  he  has  left 
behind  him.  He  is  determined  to  cultivate  the  faculty  of 
knowing  by  every  means  in  his  power,  but  some  of  the  methods 
of  knowing  may  be  closed  to  him  as  he  follows  after  the  men 
who  are  seeking  him.  In  a  sermon,  also  written  soon  after  his 
return  from  abroad,  he  took  for  his  text  the  words  "I  know  how 
to  be  abased."     There  is  something  very  personal  in  this  extract: 

"  I  must  pass  on  and  speak  about  the  way  in  which  a  man  may 
know  how  to  be  poor  in  learning.  There  are  many  of  us  who 
need  that  knowledge, — many  of  us  who  before  we  have  got  well 
into  life  see  what  a  great  world  learning  is,  and  also  see  for  a 
certainty  how  hopeless  it  is  that  we  shall  ever  do  more  than  set 
our  feet  upon  its  very  outermost  borders.  Some  life  of  practical 
duty  claims  us ;  and  the  great  stream  of  learning,  into  which  we 
long  to  plunge  and  swim,  sweeps  by  our  chained  feet,  and  we 
can  only  look  down  into  its.  tempting  waters  and  sigh  over  our 
fate.  How  many  practical  men,  men  who  seem  to  be  totally 
absorbed  and  perfectly  satisfied  in  their  busy  life,  really  live  in 
this  discontent  at  being  shut  out  from  the  richness  of  learning. 
Is  there  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way,  a  wise  way  and  a  foolish 
way,  of  living  in  that  discontent?  Indeed  there  is.  The  foolish 
ways  are  evident  enough.  The  unlearned  man  who  by  and  by 
is  heard  sneering  at  learning,  and  glorifying  machineries,  boasting 


SERMONS  419 

that  he  sees  and  wants  to  see  no  visions,  and  that  he  never 
theorizes, — he  has  not  known  how  to  be  ignorant.  He  has  let 
his  ignorance  master  and  overcome  him.  It  has  made  him  its 
slave.  The  man  who,  the  more  he  becomes  conscious  of  his 
hopelessness  of  great  scholarship,  has  grown  more  and  more 
sensible  of  what  a  great  thing  it  is  to  be  a  scholar,  and  at  the 
same  time,  by  the  same  process,  has  grown  more  and  more  re- 
spectful toward  his  own  side  of  life,  more  and  more  conscious  of 
the  value  of  practical  living  as  a  true  contribution  to  the  great 
final  whole — the  man,  therefore,  who  has  gone  on  his  way,  as 
most  of  us  have  to  do,  with  little  learning,  but  has  also  gone  on 
his  way  doing  duty  faithfully,  developing  all  the  practical  skill 
that  is  in  him,  and  sometimes,  just  because  their  details  are  so 
dark  to  him,  getting  rich  visions  of  the  general  light  and  glory 
of  the  great  sciences,  seen  afar  off,  seen  as  great  wholes,  which 
often  seem  to  be  denied  to  the  plodders  who  spend  their  lives  in 
the  close  study  of  those  sciences, — he  is  the  man  who  knows  how 
to  be  unlearned.  It  is  a  blessed  thing  that  there  is  such  a  know- 
ledge possible  for  overworked,  practical  men.  The  man  who  has 
that  knowledge  may  be  self-respectful  in  the  face  of  all  the  col- 
leges. He  may  stand  before  the  kings  of  learning  and  not  be 
ashamed;  for  his  lot  is  as  true  a  part  of  life  as  theirs,  and  he  is 
bravely  holding  up  his  side  of  that  great  earth  over  which  the 
plans  of  God  are  moving  on  to  their  completeness." 

There  is  one  other  sermon  to  be  mentioned  here, — the  com- 
panion of  the  sermon  on  "  How  to  be  abased"  written  at  the  same 
time,  with  only  a  week's  interval,  and  from  words  in  the  same 
text,  "How  to  abound."  There  are  passages  here  to  be  remem- 
bered, words  prophetic  of  those  later  years,  in  which,  having 
learned  to  be  abased,  he  reaped  the  fruit  of  abasement  in  the 
larger  abundance  of  life : 

"Many  of  the  popular  men  have  been  tyrannized  over  and 
ruined  by  their  popularity.  Their  principles  have  crumbled; 
their  selfhood  has  melted  away;  they  have  become  mere  stocks 
and  stones  for  foolish  men  to  hang  garlands  on,  not  real  men,  real 
utterances  of  the  divine  life,  leading  their  fellow-men,  rebuking 
sin,  inspiring  struggles,  saving  souls. 

"Ah,  yes!  Not  merely  to  make  men  love  you  and  honor  you, 
but  how  to  be  loved  and  honored  without  losing  yourself  and 
growing  weak, — that  is  the  problem  of  many  of  the  sweetest, 
richest,  most  attractive  lives;  and  there  is  only  one  solution  for 
it,  which  blessed  indeed  is  he  who  has  discovered!  ...  If  the 


42o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

much-loved  man  can  look  up  and  demand  the  love  of  God,  if  he 
can  crave  it  and  covet  it  infinitely  above  all  other  love,  if  laying 
hold  of  its  great  freedom,  he  can  make  it  his,  .  .  .  then  let  him 
come  back  and  take  into  a  glowing  heart  the  warmest  admiration 
and  affection  of  his  brethren,  the  heaven  that  he  carries  in  his 
heart  preserves  him.  They  cannot  make  him  conceited,  for  he 
who  lives  with  God  must  be  humble.  .  .  .  He  who  knows  that 
God  loves  and  honors  him  may  freely  take  all  other  love  and 
honor,  however  abundant  they  may  be,  and  he  will  get  no  harm. 

In  the  robing-room  of  Trinity  Church  is  a  window  given  by 
Phillips  Brooks  in  1884,  as  a  thankoffering  to  his  people  for  their 
generous  kindness.  He  gave  it  the  name  E<M>A©A  [Be  opened]. 
It  represents  Jesus  healing  the  "man  that  was  deaf  and  had  an 
impediment  in  his  speech."  Jesus  stands  at  the  left,  stretching 
out  his  arm  that  his  fingers  may  touch  the  lips  of  the  man  brought 
to  him.  The  apostles  and  the  friends  of  the  man  stand  around ; 
in  the  background  the  sail  of  a  ship  upon  the  sea  of  Galilee. 
Above  are  three  angels  holding  a  scroll  with  the  words  «V  <* 
iTn6vfjLovcri.v  ayyeXoL  irapaKvif/ai  ["  which  things  the  angels  desire 
to  look  into"].  In  the  lower  part  of  the  window  are  two  small 
pictures  of  the  Baptism  and  the  Last  Supper.  On  the  left 
the  baptism — John  upon  the  bank  pouring  the  water  upon  the 
head  of  Christ,  who  stands  in  the  stream,  while  above  the  dove 
is  descending  from  heaven;  on  the  right,  Jesus  breaking  bread 
at  the  table  with  His  disciples,  and  St.  John  leaning  upon  his 
breast.     Of  this  window  he  wrote  to  a  friend  who  admired  it: 

"I  am  glad  you  like  the  little  window  in  the  robing-room,  be- 
cause it  was  my  own  thought  entirely  and  one  in  which  I  took 
the  deepest  interest.  The  makers  did  their  work  just  as  I 
wanted  them  to,  and  the  result  has  already  given  me  great  satis- 
faction and  inspiration.  I  hope  that  it  will  help  a  long  line  of 
the  future  rectors  of  Trinity  to  speak  with  free  and  wise  tongues." 

The  return  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  his  work  was  an  occasion  for 
extending  a  formal  welcome.  A  dinner  was  given  him  by  the 
Clericus  Club,  at  Young's  Hotel,  on  the  evening  of  September  24. 
The  feeling  was  very  deep  and  tender  when  once  more  he  stood 
among  them.  He  was  silent,  and  the  usual  hilarity  of  his  manner 
was  wanting.  Bishop  Clark  of  Rhode  Island  remarked  that  we 
had  a  lion  present,  but  a  lion  who  would  no*  roar.     Another 


MARTIN  LUTHER  421 

reception  followed,  given  by  the  clergy  of  the  diocese,  which  took 
the  form  of  a  breakfast  at  the  Hotel  Brunswick,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  Thursday,  September  27,  and  the  bishop  of  the  diocese 
presided. 

The  General  Convention  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  to  which 
he  was  a  delegate  from  the  diocese  of  Massachusetts,  was  held 
in  October,  and,  fortunately  for  Mr.  Brooks,  in  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, for  it  enabled  him  to  satisfy  his  longings  to  be  with  his 
friends  in  the  place  he  had  not  ceased  to  love.  In  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Cooper  he  indulges,  as  he  often  did,  in  expression  of  devotion  to 
the  city  which  was  so  much  to  him, — "Why  did  I  ever  leave 
Philadelphia!"  It  was  his  pleasure  to  talk  of  Philadelphia  as 
if  the  glory  and  beauty  of  life,  as  he  knew  it  in  the  freshness  of 
his  years,  would  have  remained  if  he  had  never  left  there. 

When  the  General  Convention  was  over  he  was  ready  at  last 
to  resume  his  work  as  a  parish  minister.  He  had  formed  a  great 
resolution  to  give  himself  henceforth  more  exclusively  to  the 
duties  of  his  parish,  and  as  far  as  possible  deny  himself  to  outside 
calls.  He  took  up,  of  course,  his  duties  as  one  of  the  chaplains  at 
Harvard,  going  to  Cambridge  in  November  to  conduct  morning 
prayers.  There  came  to  him  while  in  Philadelphia  an  invitation 
from  the  Evangelical  Alliance  to  make  an  address  in  New  York 
on  the  13th  of  November,  at  the  commemoration  of  the  four 
hundredth  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Martin  Luther.  He  wrote 
at  once  declining  it,  but  his  tone  was  such  that  the  invitation  was 
renewed : 

"  I  must  not  think  of  it.  If  there  were  six  months  in  which  to 
get  ready  for  what  would  be  to  me  a  most  unfamiliar  duty  I 
would  try  with  trembling.  But  in  a  month,  all  crowded  full  as 
this  next  month  is  to  be,  I  do  not  dare  to  do  it,  in  justice  to  those 
who  have  asked  me,  or  to  Dr.  Luther.  I  agree  with  you  that  it 
it  is  a  most  splendid  opportunity  to  say  things  that  we  want  said. 
It  cannot  be  made  a  small  or  party  celebration.  It  must  open 
the  whole  relation  of  Christianity  to  human  kind.  But  all  that 
makes  it  the  more  necessary  that  the  oration  of  the  occasion 
should  be  no  crude  and  hurried  thing,  but  something  well  ma- 
tured and  thorough.  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  I  could  not  do 
it  in  any  length  of  time.  I  am  sure  I  could  not  do  it  in  three 
busy  weeks." 

The  invitation  proved  to  be  one  which  he  could  not  decline. 


422  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

He  was  alive  to  the  significance  of  Luther  to  the  modern  world. 
The  days  he  had  spent  in  Germany  at  Luther's  haunts  had  deep- 
ened his  love  and  admiration  for  the  great  reformer.  "I  made 
a  delightful  journey  [so  he  had  written  to  a  friend]  down  through 
the  Luther  land,  stopping  at  every  place  I  could  find  which  had 
anything  to  do  with  him."  He  had  watched  the  preparatory 
steps  for  the  commemoration  of  the  four  hundredth  anniversary 
in  his  own  country.  Much  of  the  preparation  for  the  address 
had  already  been  made.     He  spoke  therefore  from  a  full  heart : 

"The  name  and  fame  of  Luther  coming  down  through  history 
under  God's  safe-conduct  has  been  full  of  almost  the  same  vital- 
ity, and  has  been  attended  by  almost  the  same  admiration  and 
abuse,  as  was  the  figure  of  Luther  in  that  famous  journey  which 
took  him  in  his  rude  Saxon  wagon  from  Wittenberg  to  Worms 
when  he  went  up  to  the  Diet;  and  at  Leipzig,  Nurnberg,  Wei- 
mar, Erfurt,  Gotha,  Frankfurt,  the  shouts  of  his  friends  and  the 
curses  of  his  enemies  showed  that  no  man  in  Germany  was  loved 
or  hated  as  he  was." 

The  force  which  Martin  Luther  exerted  was  distinctively  a 
religious  force: 

"The  consciousness  of  being  sent  from  God  with  a  mission  for 
which  the  time  is  ripe,  and  the  consciousness  of  eager  return  to 
God,  of  the  great  human  struggle  after  Him,  possessing  a  nature 
which  cannot  live  without  Him, — the  imperious  commission 
from  above  and  the  tumultuous  experience  within, — these  two, 
not  inconsistent  with  each  other,  have  met  in  all  the  great  Chris- 
tian workers  and  reformers  who  have  moved  and  changed  the 
world.  These  two  lived  together  in  the  whole  life  of  Luther. 
The  one  spoke  out  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor  at  Worms.  The 
other  wrestled  unseen  in  the  agonies  of  the  cloister  cell  at  Erfurt." 

Luther  was  the  exponent  of  religion,  pure  and  simple,  rather 
than  the  theologian, — a  mystic  and  the  highest  representative 
of  mysticism  for  all  time.  From  this  point  of  view  he  stood  above 
Calvin  the  theologian,  or  Zwingle  the  politician,  or  the  English 
ecclesiastics.  But  conjoined  with  the  mysticism  was  morality: 
"  He  was  the  moralist  and  the  mystic:  " 

"These  are  the  universal  human  elements  of  religious  strength 
and  character.  The  theologian  may  be  far  separated  from  hu- 
manity, the  mere  arranger  of  abstract  ideas.     The  ecclesiastic 


MARTIN  LUTHER  423 

may  be  quite  unhuman,  too,  the  manager  of  intricate  machin- 
eries. But  the  man  who  is  truly  moralist  and  mystic  must  be 
full  of  a  genuine  humanity.  He  is  the  prophet  and  the  priest  at 
once.  He  brings  the  eternal  Word  of  God  to  man,  and  he  utters 
the  universal  cry  of  man  to  God.  Nothing  that  is  human  can 
be  strange  to  him,  and  so  nothing  that  is  human  can  count  him 
really  strange  to  it.  David,  Isaiah,  John  the  Baptist,  Paul — nay, 
let  us  speak  the  highest  name,  Jesus,  the  Christ  Himself — these 
elements  were  in  them  all.  Grace  and  truth,  faith  and  conscience, 
met  in  them  and  made  their  power.  These  elements  united  in 
our  Luther,  and  so  it  was,  as  the  result  of  them,  that  he  inspired 
humanity  and  moved  the  souls  of  men  and  nations  as  the  tide 
moves  the  waves." 

In  his  comment  on  Luther's  principle  of  Justification  by  Faith, 
he  saw  beneath  the  letter  its  correlated  truths: 

"However  he  may  have  stated  it  in  the  old  familiar  forms  of 
bargain,  this  was  Luther's  real  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith. 
It  was  mystic,  not  dogmatic.  It  was  of  the  soul  and  the  expe- 
rience, not  of  the  reason.  Faith  was  not  an  act,  but  a  being, — 
not  what  you  did,  but  what  you  were.  The  whole  truth  of  the 
immanence  of  God  and  of  the  essential  belonging  of  the  human 
life  to  the  divine :  the  whole  truth  that  God  is  a  power  in  man  and 
not  simply  a  power  over  man, — building  him  as  a  man  builds  a 
house,  guiding  him  as  a  man  steers  a  ship, — this  whole  truth,  in 
which  lies  the  seed  of  all  humanity,  all  progress,  all  great  human 
hope,  lay  in  the  truth  that  justification  was  by  faith  and  not  by 
works.  No  wonder  that  Luther  loved  it.  No  wonder  that  he 
thought  it  critical.  No  wonder  that  he  wrote  to  Melanchthon, 
hesitating  at  Augsburg:  'Take  care  that  you  give  not  up  justifica- 
tion by  faith.  That  is  the  heel  of  the  seed  of  the  woman  which 
is  to  crush  the  serpent's  head.'" 

He  takes  up  the  question  whether  Protestantism  has  been  a 
failure.  If  it  is  to  be  thought  of  as  a  power  aspiring  to  take 
the  place  of  Rome  and  to  govern  mankind  after  the  same  fashion, 
or  if  we  think  of  it  as  a  system  of  fixed  doctrines,  claiming  infalli- 
bility, and  refusing  all  prospect  of  development,  seeking  to  hold 
men  together  by  loyalty  to  confessions  of  faith,  or  in  submission 
to  some  central  ecclesiastical  authority,  then  it  has  failed,  as  it 
ought  to  have  failed. 

"  But  there  is  more  to  say  than  that.  These  centuries  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  life  made  by  the  ideas  of  Luther  answer  the  question. 


424  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

The  Protestantism  of  Milton  and  of  Goethe,  of  Howard  and  of 
Francke,  of  Newton  and  of  Leibnitz,  of  Bunyan  and  of  Butler, 
of  Wordsworth  and  of  Tennyson,  of  Wesley  and  of  Channing,  of 
Schleiermacher  and  of  Maurice,  of  Washington  and  of  Lincoln, 
is  no  failure.  We  may  well  dismiss  the  foolish  question,  and 
with  new  pride  and  resolve  brighten  afresh  the  great  name  of 
Protestant  upon  our  foreheads.   .  .  . 

The  time  will  come — perhaps  the  time  has  come — when  a 
new  Luther  will  be  needed  for  the  next  great  step  that  humanity 
must  take,  but  that  next  step  is  possible  mainly  because  of  what 
the  monk  of  Wittenberg  was  and  did  four  hundred  years  ago. 
There  is  no  failure  there.  Only  one  strain  in  the  music  of  the 
eternal  success, — fading  away  but  to  give  space  for  a  new  and 
higher  strain." 

The  address  as  written  or  as  published  is  not  quite  what  it  was 
in  the  delivery.  In  sending  the  manuscript  for  publication  he 
says:  "I  suppose  it  will  do  to  let  what  I  had  written  about  Lu- 
ther's life  stand  instead  of  the  epitome  of  it;  which  I  tried  to 
extemporize  on  that  tumultuous  evening." 

"I  heard  his  Luther  speech  in  New  York  [writes  Bishop  Law- 
rence], and  then  he  did  what  I  never  knew  him  to  do  at  any  other 
time.  He  had  a  great  audience  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  and 
it  was  a  great  occasion.  He  felt  it.  He  read  from  his  manu- 
script, but  when  it  came  to  the  burning  of  the  Pope's  Bull  he 
left  his  manuscript,  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  desk,  then  to  the 
front  of  the  platform,  and  launched  forth  on  a  most  eloquent  and 
impassioned  description  of  the  scene.  He  then  returned  to  the 
desk  and  continued  to  read  from  the  manuscript.  My  impres- 
sion was  that  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment  he  depicted  it 
in  extemporized  language,  or  expanded  what  the  manuscript 
contained." 

In  the  fall  of  1883  appeared  the  third  volume  of  his  sermons, 
published  simultaneously  in  England  and  America,  with  the 
title,  Sermons  preached  in  English  Churches.  As  he  put  the 
sermons  in  order  for  printing,  having  in  view  the  reception 
given  him  by  the  English  people,  he  dedicated  the  volume  "To 
many  friends  in  England  in  remembrance  of  their  cordial  wel- 
come." No  more  genuine  expressions  of  appreciation  came  to 
him  than  those  from  England. 

"Your  visit  to  us  this  summer  [writes  a  high  dignitary  of  the 


SERMONS  425 

Church  of  England]  has  left  a  mark,  spiritual  and  intellectual, 
which,  by  God's  help,  will  not  soon  be  effaced  from  the  Church 
which  welcomed  you  and  delighted  to  listen  to  you.  And  we, 
who  have  to  preach  and  teach,  feel  that  a  prophet  has  been  among 
us,  and  a  new  stimulus  given  to  us,  for  which  we  are  heartily 
grateful  and  solemnly  responsible.  "  "  My  gratitude  [another 
writer  says]  has  grown  and  deepened,  and  now  cannot  find  the 
proper  and  suitable  words  in  which  to  express  itself.  "  "I  can 
assure  you  [writes  a  member  of  the  legal  profession  who  heard 
him  in  theTemple  Church]  I  will  never  forget  the  lessons  of 
charity  you  urged  upon  us.  The  older  I  get,  and  the  more  of 
the  world  I  see,  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  if  Christianity  is 
to  lay  hold  on  the  higher  order  of  intellects,  it  must  be  by 
such  noble,  broad,  elevating  preaching  as  yours." 

In  the  notices  of  the  book  in  the  English  papers  Mr.  Brooks 
was  declared  to  be  an  exception  to  transatlantic  eloquence. 
"The  quality  which  will  first  strike  the  reader  of  these  sermons," 
says  one  of  these  book  reviews,  "is  their  thoroughly  English  and 
Anglican  tone."  It  was  remarked  by  another  critic  that  the 
sermons  in  reading  did  not  suffer  from  the  absence  of  the  im- 
pressive manner  of  the  preacher.  "On  every  page  we  come 
across  sentences  which  lend  themselves  readily  to  detached 
quotation,  and  they  are  of  a  quality  which  will  stand  examination 
and  provoke  thought;  indeed,  passages  of  this  kind  are  so  fre- 
quent that  it  is  next  to  impossible  to  select  quotations  in 
illustration." 

The  estimate  of  these  sermons  which  follows  is  from  an  En- 
glish reviewer: 

"We  are  disposed  to  assign  to  Mr.  Brooks  the  rank  of  the  first 
preacher  of  the  day.  Or,  if  that  be  too  strong  a  statement,  we 
shall  mend  it  by  saying  that  his  printed  sermons  are  the  best 
we  have  read.  They  are,  without  exception,  great  sermons.  Of 
the  fourteen  sermons  in  this  volume,  it  may  be  said  that  they  are 
great  in  all  respects.  Great  in  the  gravity  of  their  solemn  elo- 
quence, great  in  the  felicity  with  which  word  is  fitted  to  thought, 
and  perfect  simple  expression  is  given  to  deep  and  profound 
thought,  great  also  in  the  insight  into  character,  motive,  and 
action,  and  specially  great  in  the  act  which  fuses  thought,  speech, 
emotion,  into  one  organic  whole.  Each  sermon  stands  out  clear 
and  vivid  before  us,  perfect  in  the  one  simple  impression  it  makes 
on  our  mind.  It  is  only  as  we  proceed  to  analysis  that  we  dis- 
cover how  much  complexity  and  variety  have  gone  to  make  the 


426  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

unity  which  is  perfect  as  the  unity  of  a  true  or  of  a  living  organ- 
ism. There  is  boundless  variety,  manifoldness  of  many  sorts, 
but  all  held  together  by  a  principle  of  life  from  within,  and  not 
of  outward  constraint  as  staves  are  held  together  by  means  of 
hoops  in  order  to  make  a  barrel." 

Two  of  the  sermons  may  be  specially  mentioned,  as  suited  to 
the  moment,  although  the  immediate  aim  is  buried  beneath  a 
form  of  adaptation  to  any  age.  One  of  them  is  entitled  "The 
Mind's  Love  for  God"  from  the  words  of  Christ  where  He  enjoins 
the  divine  love  not  only  with  the  heart  but  with  the  intellect: 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  .  .  .  thy  mind." 
The  preacher  had  in  view  the  attitude  of  those  who  enjoined 
the  intellectual  formulas  of  other  ages  as  final  and  authoritative 
and  refused  to  allow  to  the  present  age  the  right  to  examine  those 
formulas,  or  even  to  attempt  to  restate  them  in  the  language  of 
the  modern  world,  as  though  the  mere  action  of  the  modern  in- 
tellect were,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  either  ineffective  or  else 
destructive  and  dangerous.  He  reviews  the  different  religious 
attitudes, — those  who  cling  to  the  Bible  with  the  affection  of 
the  heart,  but  refuse  to  it  the  love  of  the  intellect,  declining  to 
consider  any  questions  as  to  where  it  came  from,  or  from  what 
parts  it  is  made  up,  how  its  parts  belong  together,  and  the  nature 
of  its  authority.  He  alludes  to  those  who  repel  all  questions 
about  the  nature  of  God,  crying  out:  "You  must  not  try  to 
understand,  you  must  only  listen,  worship,  and  obey" ;  or  those 
who,  when  the  incarnation  of  Christ  is  mentioned,  and  the  ques- 
tion is  raised,  among  other  questions,  of  the  way  the  sonship 
of  Christ  is  related  to  the  sonship  of  all  other  men  in  God,  say 
in  rebuke:  "You  must  not  ask;  Christ  is  above  all  questions." 
Or  again,  when  one  would  learn  of  the  saint  at  Christ's  sacra- 
ment what  that  dear  and  lofty  rite  means  to  him,  must  he  be 
told:  "You  must  not  rationalize. — it  is  a  mystery;  the  reason 
has  no  function  here"!  It  is  not  only  among  devout  Christians 
that  this  tendency  appears,  but  among  those  who  disbelieve  the 
Christian  faith: 

"A  curious  way  of  talking,  which  seems  to  me  to  have  grown 
strangely  common  of  late  among  the  men  who  disbelieve  in  Chris- 
tianity. It  is  patronizing  and  quietly  insulting;  it  takes  for 
granted  that  the  Christian's  faith  has  no  real  reason  at  its  heart. 


SERMONS  427 

nor  any  trustworthy  grounds  for  thinking  itself  true.  At  the 
same  time,  it  grants  that  there  is  a  certain  weak  side  of  human 
nature  where  the  reason  does  not  work,  where  everything  de- 
pends on  sentiment  and  feeling,  where  not  what  is  true,  but 
what  is  beautiful  and  comforting  and  reassuring  is  the  soul's 
demand;  and  that  side  of  the  nature  it  gives  over  to  religion. 
Because  that  side  of  the  nature  is  the  most  prominent  part,  and 
indeed  sometimes  seems  to  be  the  whole  of  weaker  kinds  of  men 
and  women,  it  accepts  the  necessity  of  religion  for  these  weak 
people,  and  does  not  desire  its  immediate  extinction ;  only  it  must 
not  pretend  to  be  a  reasonable  thing.  Theology  must  not  call 
itself  a  science,  and  Faith  must  know  it  is  a  dream." 

Against  this  one  of  many  forms  of  exaggerated,  provoking  sen- 
timentalism  in  the  nineteenth  century  he  protests  in  the  name  of 
religion  and  of  historical  Christianity: 

"Think  of  David  and  his  cry,  'Thy  testimonies  are  wonderful. 
I  have  more  understanding  than  my  teachers,  for  thy  testimonies 
are  my  study.'  Think  of  Paul,  'O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both 
of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God.'  Think  of  Augustine,  Lu- 
ther, Calvin,  Milton,  Edwards,  and  a  hundred  more,  the  men 
whose  minds  have  found  their  loftiest  inspiration  in  religion,  how 
they  would  have  received  this  quiet  and  contemptuous  relegation 
of  the  most  stupendous  subject  of  human  thought  to  the  region 
of  silly  sentiment.  They  were  men  who  loved  the  Lord  their 
God  with  all  their  minds.  The  noble  relation  of  their  intellects 
to  Him  was  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  their  lives." 

The  other  sermon  in  this  volume  which  deserves  mention  as 
adapted  to  the  age  is  called  "Gamaliel,"  from  the  text,  "Gama- 
liel, a  doctor  of  xhe  law,  had  in  reputation  among  all  the  people" 
(Acts  v.,  34).  It  is  a  plea  for  absolute  freedom  in  the  search  for 
truth,  resting  en  faith  in  God  as  the  final  safeguard  of  the  truth, — 
"  If  this  work  be  of  men,  it  will  come  to  naught ;  but  if  it  be  of  God, 
ye  cannot  overthrow  it,  lest  haply  ye  be  found  even  to  fight 
against  God." 

"  Every  great  teacher,  every  great  scholar,  ought  to  be  aware 
of  the  mystery  and  of  the  mightiness  of  truth,  and  therefore  he 
ought  to  be  prepared  to  see  Truth  linger  and  hesitate  and  seem 
to  be  retarded,  and  even  seem  to  be  turned  back,  and  yet  to  keep 
a  clear  assurance  that  Truth  must  come  right  in  the  end  and  that 
the  only  way  to  help  her  is  to  keep  her  free,  so  that  she  shall  be 
at  liberty  to  help  herself.  .  .  .  The  scholar  of  truth  must  trust 


428  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

truth.  .  .  .  The  student  must  claim,  for  himself  and  for  all  men, 
libert)'.  ...  If  you  limit  the  search  for  truth  and  forbid  men 
anywhere,  in  any  way,  to  seek  knowledge,  you  paralyze  the  vital 
force  of  truth  itself.  That  is  what  makes  bigotry  so  disastrous 
to  the  bigot." 

Gamaliel  was  the  type  of  such  a  teacher,  broad-minded,  in- 
culcating earnestly  his  own  views  of  truth,  knowing  at  the  same 
time  that  truth  is  larger  than  his  view, — one  of  those  men  who 
give  others  the  chance  to  make  history,  while  they  relegate  them- 
selves to  obscurity.  "There  are  few  things  finer  than  to  see  the 
reverence  and  gratitude  with  which  the  best  men  of  active  life 
look  back  to  the  quiet  teachers  who  furnished  them  with  the 
materials  of  living."  With  such  an  ideal  of  teaching,  he  con- 
trasts the 

"  men  who  are  set  upon  making  all  the  world  live  in  their 
own  way,  who  have  no  real  faith  in  God,  and  therefore  no  real 
faith  in  men.  Human  force  and  goodness  seem  to  them  to  be 
not  vital  growths  with  real  life  in  them,  but  skilfully  arranged 
devices  all  artificially  planned  and  pinned  together,  when,  if  you 
altered  the  place  of  any  single  pin,  the  whole  must  fall.  Such 
men  must  blight  the  possibilities  of  any  communities  they  live 
in.  .  .  .  To  hold  your  truth,  to  believe  it  with  all  your  heart,  to 
work  with  all  your  might,  first  to  make  it  real  to  yourself  and 
then  to  show  its  preciousness  to  other  men,  and  then — not  till 
then,  but  then — to  leave  the  questions  of  when  and  how  and  by 
whom  it  shall  prevail  to  God:  that  is  the  true  life  of  the  believer. 
There  is  no  feeble  unconcern  and  indiscriminateness  there,  and 
neither  is  there  any  excited  hatred  of  the  creed,  the  doctrine,  or 
the  Church,  which  you  feel  wholly  wrong.  You  have  not  fled 
out  of  the  furnace  of  bigotry  to  freeze  on  the  open  and  desolate 
plains  of  indifference.  You  believe  and  yet  you  have  no  wish  to 
persecute." 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  last  century,  with  its  boasted  freedom, 
had  seen  more  attempts  at  religious  ostracism,  and  caused  more 
suffering  for  the  sake  of  religious  beliefs,  than  had  been  known 
for  two  hundred  years.  We  must  go  back  to  the  seventeenth 
century  for  an  analogous  moment  in  history  since  the  Reforma- 
tion. In  the  middle  of  the  century  Mr.  Mill  foresaw  the  danger 
and  made  his  plea  for  liberty.  Phillips  Brooks,  in  this  sermon, 
is  occupied  with  the  thought  which  he  would  later  elaborate  in 


SERMONS  429 

his  book  on  Tolerance.  Now  he  closed  his  sermon  with  a  great 
appeal,  invoking  the  time  when  every  "form  of  terrorism  shall 
have  passed  away,  when  we  shall  frankly  own  that  there  is  noth- 
ing for  which  God  in  any  world  will  punish  any  of  his  children 
except  sin." 

The  sermon  on  Gamaliel  was  preached  in  the  Temple  Church 
in  London,  rich  with  historical  associations,  its  audience  mostly 
made  up  of  men,  lawyers  in  large  numbers  among  them.  He 
was  standing  in  Hooker's  place,  and  his  utterance  was  worthy 
of  Hooker,  and  such  as  he  would  have  welcomed.  The  sermon 
left  an  extraordinary  impression.  One  who  listened  to  him 
wrote  him  this  letter: 

"  If  I  had  obeyed  my  impulse  last  Sunday  I  should  have  written 
you  after  the  service  to  tell  you  how  deeply  your  words  sank  into 
my  heart,  and — may  I  say  it? — with  what  pride  I  saw  you  in  the 
old  Temple,  and  knew  that  more  noble  words  of  truth  had  never 
resounded  through  its  historic  walls." 

It  was  some  time  after  Mr.  Brooks  returned  to  Boston  before 
he  settled  down  contentedly  to  work.  So  late  as  December  6th, 
he  wrote:  "I  should  not  like  to  have  the  people  here  know  how 
restless  I  am,  and  how  hard  it  is  to  get  to  work  again.  London 
and  Berlin  and  Delhi  seem  so  much  more  real  than  Boston." 

In  response  to  an  invitation  to  be  present  at  an  Interecclesias- 
tical  Church  Congress  he  wrote : 

"I  wish  nothing  but  good  to  the  Interecclesiastical  Church 
Congress.  But  I  am  of  no  use  in  such  organized  movements,  nor 
have  I  any  great  faith  in  them.  I  think  that  the  more  freely 
the  spirit  of  union  works  the  better,  and  any  attempts  to  put  it 
into  organic  shape,  or  even  to  give  it  definition  and  expression, 
only  do  harm. 

"I  may  be  wrong.  I  probably  am.  I  am  not  writing  in  any 
foolish  idea  of  dissuading  you,  nor  of  throwing  even  a  dipperful 
of  cold  water  on  the  scheme;  only  to  say  why  I  myself  cannot 
take  part  in  it;  and  you  will  understand  me,  and  if  you  don't 
we  '11  talk  it  out  the  next  time  you  get  down  your  feet  before 
my  fire." 

On  receiving  a  copy  of  the  translation  of  his  Lectures  on 
Preaching,  Mr.  Brooks  wrote  this  letter: 


430  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  7,  1883. 

"  My  dear  M.  Nyegaard, — I  have  just  received  the  two  copies 
of  the  Conferences  sur  la  Predication  which  you  have  kindly 
sent  me,  for  which  I  thank  you  very  heartily.  I  am  sure  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  I  value  very  highly  the  care  and  thought  and 
labor  which  you  have  so  generously  bestowed  upon  my  book.  I 
wish  the  book  to  which  you  have  given  so  much  time  were  wor- 
thier of  the  pains  which  you  have  lavished  on  it.  I  fear  there 
may  be  people  who  will  say,  'Materiam  superabat  opus.'  But 
none  the  less  I  thank  you,  and  if  any  help  or  encouragement 
should  come  to  any  preacher  in  your  country  through  this  book, 
I  shall  feel  that  it  is  to  you  more  than  to  me  that  the  credit  will 
belong. 

"It  is  very  strange  to  read  one's  own  words  in  a  foreign 
tongue.  It  is  almost  as  if  one's  image  in  a  mirror  took  a  voice 
and  spoke  to  one.  The  words  are  familiar  and  yet  strange,  and 
thoughts  seem  sometimes  to  put  on  new  shades  of  meaning  along 
with  their  new  forms  of  expression.  I  have  found  myself 
reading  my  own  book  quite  through  with  the  attraction  of  the 
new  interest  which  it  gained  from  the  new  form.  I  have  no 
right  to  speak  about  the  merit  of  your  work.  I  am  too  poor  a 
French  scholar  to  make  my  opinion  of  any  value.  I  can  only 
say  that  I  have  found  it  very  smooth  and  easy  reading.  I  do  not 
doubt  that  critics  who  are  competent  to  judge  will  find  abun- 
dant reason  to  approve  and  praise  the  way  in  which  the  work 
of  the  translator  has  been  done." 

In  a  letter  to  Rev.  Dr.  W.  N.  McVickar,  he  speaks  of  the 
forty-eighth  birthday: 

"Dear  William, — It  was  delightfully  kind  of  you  and  your 
sister  to  remember  that  I  was  forty-eight  last  Thursday,  and  to 
send  me  this  delicious  little  token  of  your  good  wishes,  which  I 
received  to-day.  Your  kindness  and  the  beauty  of  your  little 
lamp  almost  reconciled  me  to  the  sadness  of  the  event.  The  day 
passed  calmly.  There  was  no  salute  upon  the  Common  nor  any 
special  form  of  prayer  put  forth  by  the  Bishop;  but  Jim  and 
Sallie  came  up  from  Salem  and  dined  with  me  at  my  brother's, 
and  we  made  believe  it  was  good  fun  to  be  forty-eight  years  old. 
Wait  till  you  try  it,  my  good  fellow,  and  see  how  you  like  it,  to 
have  your  golden  bowl  and  pitcher  in  this  dilapidated  condition." 

Here  follow  a  few  extracts  from  the  note-book  for  1883 : 

"One  feels  there  is  great  danger  in  the  present  attitude  of  mul- 
titudes of  English  people  towards  Christianity,  accepting  it  with- 


SERMONS  431 

out  facing  its  problems,  as  the  religion  of  their  people,  dwelling 
on  its  beautiful  or  comfortable  features,  and  almost  ready  to 
resent  as  simply  disturbing  and  unnecessary  any  effort  to  make 
its  statements  more  reasonable.  Not  so  common  among  us.  It 
is  closely  mixed  up  with  the  loyalty  and  practicalness  and 
institutionalism  of  the  Englishman.  The  other  temper  also 
there." 

"Let  us  never  disparage  the  value  of  certain  and  sure  belief 
about  truth.  Whatever  compensations  may  come  in  its  absence 
and  delay,  it  is  nevertheless,  and  we  can  never  forget  that  it  is, 
the  ultimate  purpose  and  ambition  of  the  human  soul,  until  it 
reaches  which,  it  never  can  be  satisfied." 

"  Sermon  on  the  great  revelation  of  the  immanence  of  God  in 
these  days." 

"As  Columbus  sailed  to  find  the  Old  World  and  found  the 
New,  so  possibly  a  reaction  (like  the  Puseyite)  may  help  the 
progress  of  truth." 

"The  ocean,  ever  defeated  by  man,  and  never  conquered." 

"The  perpetual  presence  behind  our  life,  with  its  temporary 
impulses,  of  God  and  His  life." 

"How  old  things  may  pass  away  without  all  things  becoming 
new." 

"As  useless  and  provoking  as  it  is  to  have  one  of  those  matches 
which  won't  light  without  the  box,  and  you  have  n't  got  the 
box." 

"No  sooner  done  than  said" 

"French  talk  of  a  man  having  the  danger  of  his  qualities." 

"Like  the  long  zigzags  up  the  hills,  always  coming  back  into 
sight  of  the  same  points,  but  viewing  them  from  higher  points, — 
so  of  theological  progress." 

"Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the  lion  and  adder;  the  young  lion 
and  dragon  shalt  thou  tread  under  thy  feet",  "The  sun  shall 
not  be  thy  light  by  day,"  etc., — the  universal  Eastern  prayers. 

"Text:  He  was  wandering  in  the  field,  and  the  man  asked  him 
saying,  '  What  seekest  thou? '     And  he  said,  '  I  seek  my  brethren; 


432  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

tell  me,  I  pray  thee,  where  they  feed  their  flocks.'  The  lonely 
soul  wandering  in  doubt  and  personal  experience,  and  craving 
the  familiar  ways  of  other  souls  which  may  be  the  very  thing  that 
will  be  his  death." 

"The  time  for  confirmation,  I  think,  is  not  childhood,  when 
others  think  for  us;  not  middle  age,  when  life  grows  weary,  but 
just  at  the  time  when  obedience  to  authority  changes  into 
personal  responsibility, — in  the  period  of  youth  when  life  is 
fresh  and  untried,  but  the  way  has  to  be  trodden  and  the  trav- 
eller just  setting  out  needs  a  guide  and  a  helper." 

"When  I  see  how  the  real  difficulty  of  multitudes  of  bewildered 
men  is  not  this  or  that  unsolved  problem,  but  the  whole  incapa- 
city of  comprehending  God — when  I  see  this,  I  understand  how 
the  best  boon  that  God  can  give  to  any  group  of  men  must  often 
be  to  take  one  of  them  and,  bearing  witness  of  Himself  to  him, 
set  him  to  bearing  that  witness  of  the  Lord  to  his  brethren,  which 
only  a  man  surrounded  and  filled  with  God  can  bear." 

'"The  beauty  of  holiness.'  It  seems  as  if  the  good  taste  of 
goodness,  the  ugliness  of  sin,  while  it  cannot  be  used  as  the  first 
creative  motive  for  a  new  life,  must  certainly  come  in  by  and  by 
to  certify  and  assure  the  work  which  conscience  and  obedience 
to  the  Law  of  God  have  done.  Brought  in  at  first  it  must  create 
a  feeble  moral  asstheticism  and  be  fruitful  in  false  and  conven- 
tional standards.  But  it  may  apparently  be  recognized  and 
enforced  sooner  with  reference  to  the  conditions  of  the  world 
and  society  at  large  than  with  reference  to  the  individual." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

1884. 

VISIT  TO  WASHINGTON.  OLD  HOUSE  AT  NORTH  ANDOVER. 
CORRESPONDENCE.  SISTERHOODS.  LATIN  SCHOOL 
ADDRESS.  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  DEGREE  OF  D.D. 
CONFERRED  AT  OXFORD.  SERMON  AT  CAMBRIDGE 
UNIVERSITY.       EXTRACTS    FROM    NOTE-BOOKS. 

if  The  year  1884  passed  without  incident  of  any  special  impor- 
tance. One  event,  however,  did  interest  him  deeply, — the  com- 
ing into  possession  of  the  old  homestead  at  North  Andover.  He 
felt  for  the  first  time  the  sensation  of  being  an  owner  of  land,  and 
was  impressed  with  the  circumstance  that  he  should  have  fallen 
heir  to  the  home  of  his  ancestors.  He  magnified  his  possession, 
played  with  it  as  if  he  had  been  presented  with  a  new  toy.  It 
was  his  pleasure,  from  this  time,  to  represent  himself  as  spending 
his  summers  at  North  Andover,  and  carrying  on  there  extensive 
farming  operations.  Many  improvements  within  and  without  the 
house  made  things  more  comfortable  and  attractive.  A  study 
was  fitted  up  with  a  large  fireplace,  where  he  was  surrounded  by 
the  portraits  of  his  ancestors, — a  so-called  study,  for  he  spent 
but  little  time  there;  he  could  not  get  accustomed  to  living  in  a 
country  town,  and  when  he  was  there  he  sighed  for  the  city  and 
the  ways  of  men.  But  he  did  his  best  to  win  himself  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  property.  The  old  corn  barn  he  made  over  into  a 
playhouse  for  the  children  of  his  older  brother.  A  stove  was  put 
into  it  where  the  children  could  play  at  cooking,  and  where  he 
was  to  go  and  take  tea  with  them.  A  study  table  was  also  pro- 
vided, for  it  was  assumed  that  he  would  spend  there  much  of  his 
time.  With  his  own  hands  he  lined  the  walls  with  pictures.  In 
the  midst  of  the  changes  and  improvements  he  writes,  "How  I 
at  433 


434  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

wish  we  had  taken  hold  of  it  and  made  these  changes  ten  years 
ago,  while  Father  and  Mother  and  the  Aunts  could  have  got  the 
enjoyment  of  them." 

Reports  were  in  circulation  which  annoyed  him.  To  a  letter 
asking  him  whether  he  had  given  up  his  belief  in  miracles  he 
replied : 

"Boston,  March  22,  1884. 

"What  a  curious  question!  No,  I  have  not  'surrendered  the 
miraculous  element  in  the  New  Testament,'  nor  do  I  'believe 
Jesus  the  natural  son  of  Joseph  and  Mary,'  nor  do  I  'think  Stop- 
ford  Brooke  needlessly  withdrew  from  the  Church  of  England,' 
and  points  like  these.  Who  on  earth  can  be  the  man  who  cares 
to  know  what  I  think  about  these  things?" 

He  is  recalled  at  the  time  as  entering  his  study,  where  friends 
were  waiting  for  him,  throwing  his  hat  across  the  room  indig- 
nantly, and  refusing  to  talk.  He  had  just  come  from  a  conversa- 
tion on  the  street  with  some  one  who  quietly  assumed  that  he 
did  not  believe  the  creeds  he  was  in  the  habit  of  reciting.  He 
had  broken  out  in  moral  wrath  against  the  man  and  against  his 
assumption,  asking  him  if  he  realized  the  meaning  of  what  he 
was  saying.  To  a  clergyman  who  had  published  a  statement  to 
the  effect  that  Mr.  Brooks  no  longer  believed  in  the  tenets  of  his 
creed,  he  wrote  an  emphatic  letter,  saying  plainly  that  the  state- 
ment was  untrue.  However  baseless  these  rumors  were,  they 
would  afford,  if  studied  in  their  origin,  a  curious  pathological 
interest. 

After  Easter  had  been  kept  he  made  a  visit  to  New  York  and 
then  went  to  Washington.  As  he  was  leaving  New  York,  he 
wrote  to  Boston,  commending  to  his  assistant  at  Trinity  a  case 
of  need: 

"New  York,  April  19,  1884. 

"Will  you  go  and  see  a  colored  man  named who  is  in  the 

City  Hospital,  Boston.  It  is  a  bad  case.  The  man  shot  himself 
six  weeks  ago.  in  consequence  of  some  fraudulent  proceedings  in 
which  he  had  been  caught,  and  now  he  is  in  a  wretched  state. 
He  will  probably  die, — or,  if  he  lives,  will  be  a  helpless  creature. 
He  is  half  paralyzed,  and  at  times  he  is  more  or  less  out  of  his  head. 
I  wish  that  you  would  see  him,  for  when  I  left  him  he  was  very 
desolate.  Do  comfort  the  poor  soul,  and  set  him  right  if  you 
can." 


VISIT  TO  WASHINGTON  435 

A  round  of  festivities  awaited  him  in  Washington.  Lunches 
and  dinners  filled  up  the  days.  Among  his  hosts  were  Senator 
Bayard  and  the  historian  Bancroft.  He  met  Senators  Hoar, 
Dawes,  Pendleton,  Tucker,  and  Wade  Hampton;  Judges  of  the 
Supreme  Court  Field,  Harlan,  and  Matthews.  At  a  dinner  given 
in  his  honor  by  Mr.  Bancroft,  he  met,  among  others,  General 
Sheridan  and  President  Arthur.  He  called  upon  the  President 
at  the  White  House,  and  the  President  returned  his  call.  He 
took  the  occasion  while  in  Washington  to  revisit  the  Theological 
Seminary  at  Alexandria,  and  "grew  very  sentimental  about  old 
times." 

In  Pennsylvania  the  name  of  Phillips  Brooks  had  been  men- 
tioned as  a  candidate  for  the  bishopric  in  case  Bishop  Stevens 
should  ask  for  assistance.  He  writes  on  the  subject  to  Rev. 
Arthur  Brooks : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  18,  1884. 

"Dear  Arthur, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  note,  on  which 
I  have  been  pondering  since  it  came.  It  is  a  funny  feeling  to 
be  brought  face  to  face  with  the  question  whether  one  would  be 
a  bishop  if  he  were  elected.  But  when  I  ask  myself  the  ques- 
tion, I  become  quite  sure  that  I  would  not.  First,  I  feel  confi- 
dent that  I  do  not  want  it,  and  second,  I  am  sure  that  I  am  not 
made  for  it.  .  .  .  If  anybody  asks  anything  about  me,  tell  them 
you  believe — as  I  now  assure  you  is  the  case — I  would  not  accept 
it  if  I  were  chosen." 

The  summer  passed  without  incident  and  rather  dragged. 
Part  of  it  was  spent  at  Sharon  Springs,  New  York.  He  went  to 
a  church  where  the  ritual  was  not  to  his  taste:  "I  sat  in  a  pew 
at  both  services  and  enjoyed  my  mind."  "What  a  dreadful 
time  summer  is !  I  long  for  Lent  and  its  labor,  or  Christmas  and 
its  carolling,  in  contrast  with  this  loungy,  hot,  dissipated  life." 

To  a  friend  who  was  puzzled  by  the  character  of  a  person  with 
whom  both  were  thrown  much  in  contact,  he  writes: 

"Sharon  Springs,  N.  Y.,  July  9,  1884. 

"Thank  you  for  letting  me  see  the  remarkable  epistle  in  which 
our  friend  pours  forth  his  soul.  It  is  a  strange  being.  I  doubt 
if  he  himself  has  any  idea  where  sincerity  ends  and  insincerity 
begins.  And  with  this  fulsome  and  unreal  part  of  him  there  are 
mixed  up  such  good  qualities,  so  much  energy  and  kindliness  and 


436  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

desire  to  be  useful,  that  it  seems  a  perpetual  pity  that  he  should 
not  be  a  great  deal  better  than  he  is.  He  is  a  curious  study  of 
the  way  in  which  one's  weakest  and  strongest  qualities  not  merely 
lie  side  by  side,  but  also  are  twisted  in  with  one  another,  and 
get  each  other's  strength  and  weakness." 

In  the  fall,  political  issues  were  causing  great  excitement 
throughout  the  country.  The  nomination  of  Mr.  Blaine  for 
the  presidency  caused  widespread  dissatisfaction  in  the  Re- 
publican party,  giving  rise  to  what  was  known  as  the  "Mug- 
wump" movement,  by  whose  aid  the  Democratic  candidate, 
Mr.  Cleveland,  was  elected, — the  first  Democratic  President  in 
a  period  of  twenty-five  years.  While  Mr.  Brooks  did  not  vote 
for  Mr.  Blaine,  he  positively  refused  to  join  in  the  revolt  from 
the  Republican  party. 

The  Church  Congress  met  at  Detroit  in  October,  where  he 
read  his  paper  on  Authority  and  Conscience.  He  accepted 
an  invitation  to  deliver  lectures  in  the  following  year  at  the 
General  Theological  Seminary  in  New  York,  and  fastened  on 
the  subject  of  Tolerance,  which  had  long  been  in  his  mind. 
He  now  proposed  "to  give  its  history,  and  discriminate  it  from 
its  counterfeits  and  anticipate  its  future." 

The  book  on  Tolerance  is  a  very  personal  one,  for  he  was  vindi- 
cating his  own  position,  his  mental  freedom,  his  superiority  to 
narrow  sectarian  lines,  his  wide  sympathies,  his  own  tolerance  for 
all  sincere  and  earnest  thought.  He  was  guarding  himself 
against  "being  travestied  and  misdescribed  by  bigotry,  on  the 
one  hand,  or  by  what  is  called  "free  thought"  on  the  other. 
His  tone  is  at  times  tender  and  pathetic.  He  was  gentle  and 
kind,  for  he  had  adversaries  to  conciliate  if  possible.  He 
knew  that  his  position  was  a  difficult  one  to  maintain,  but  he  was 
determined  to  make  it  clear,  and  to  enforce  and  recommend  it 
by  the  fascination  of  his  eloquence  and  his  wide  observation  and 
experience  of  life.  He  took  for  his  text,  if  we  may  call  it  so,  a 
passage  from  the  writings  of  Maurice,  which  he  admits  sounds 
like  a  paradox,  but  will  come  to  be  an  axiom, — "It  is  the  natural 
feeling  of  all  that  charity  is  founded  upon  the  uncertainty  of 
truth.  I  believe  that  it  is  found  on  the  certainty  of  truth."  He 
endeavored  to  meet  that  class  of  minds  which  are  accustomed 
to  think  that  strong,  positive  conviction  is  incompatible  with 


LECTURES  ON  TOLERANCE   437 

tolerance;  that  faith  and  tolerance  can  have  no  fellowship;  that 
"the  only  foundation  for  tolerance  is  a  degree  of  scepticism." 
He  denned  tolerance  as  "the  willing  consent  that  other  men 
should  hold  and  express  opinions  with  which  we  disagree  until 
they  are  convinced  by  reason  that  those  opinions  are  untrue." 
And  again,  "True  tolerance  consists  in  the  love  of  truth  and  the 
love  of  man,  each  brought  to  its  perfection  and  living  in  harmony 
with  one  another  .  .  .  and  enfolded  in  the  greater  love  of  God. 
The  love  of  truth  alone  grows  cruel.  It  has  no  pity  for  man.  .  .  . 
And  the  love  of  man  alone  grows  weak.  It  trims  and  moulds 
and  travesties  the  truth  to  suit  men's  whims." 

To  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell  he  writes,  speaking  of  his  recent  book, 
In  War  Time: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  20,  1884. 

"My  dear  Weir, — Just  after  I  had  finished  In  War  Time  there 
came  in  the  copy  of  it  which  you,  in  your  kind  thoughtfulness, 
had  sent  to  me.  I  should  have  sent  a  line  anyway  to  say  how 
much  I  had  enjoyed  the  story,  but  now  I  must  also  tell  you  how 
very  much  I  value  the  copy  of  it  which  you  have  given  me  your- 
self. I  have  not  had  enough  to  do  with  great  people  to  have 
ceased  to  feel  a  thrill  at  an  author's  gift  of  his  own  book.  An 
author,  the  man  who  can  wave  his  wand  and  summon  all  these 
people  and  make  them  behave  themselves  like  folks  for  four  hun- 
dred pages,  is  a  mystery  and  a  marvel  to  me.  And  to  have  him 
open  the  door  to  me  with  his  own  wonderful  hands  is  a  surprise 
and  delight. 

"I  take  it  for  a  Christmas  present,  and  send  back  swarms  of 
Christmas  wishes  for  you  and  yours.  God  bless  you,  merry  gen- 
tleman! "  Ever  affectionately  yours, 

"  P.  B." 

This  is  a  picture  of  Phillips  Brooks  worth  preserving,  as  he 
went  to  St.  Paul's  on  Tremont  Street,  sitting  in  the  pew  where 
he  sat  as  a  boy.     He  writes  of  it  December  26,1! 


"The  Bishop  had  us  all  to  talk  to  the  other  day  in  old  St. 
Paul's,  and  I  sat  alone  in  pew  No.  60,  and  heard  him,  and  used 
Mother's  old  Prayer  Book  in  the  service." 

The  following  letters  were  written  to  a  lady  who  had  thoughts 
of  entering  a  sisterhood  in  order  that  her  life  might  be  under 
"rule"  and  subject  to  a  "spiritual  director." 


438  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  3,  1885. 

"My  dear  Miss  , — Is  there  not  very  great  danger  that, 

in  seeking  to  lose  the  worst  part  of  yourself,  its  anxiety  and  op- 
pression, you  may  lose  the  best  which  God  has  given  you  in  the 
submission  of  your  life  to  rule  and  machinery?  I  cannot  help 
telling  you  once  more  how  sad  is  the  mistake  which  I  feel  sure 
that  you  would  make  if  you  gave  way  to  the  impulse  which  has 
taken  possession  of  your  mind. 

"But  may  not  this  one  thing  have  weight  with  you,  the  duty 
which  you  owe  to  your  present  work?  Can  you  desert  the  souls 
which  look  to  you  for  help  ?  Can  you  give  up  your  school-teach- 
ing into  which  God  has  allowed  you  to  carry  so  much  of  life- 
giving  power?  Can  you  abandon  your  class  in  which  you  have 
gathered  so  many  young  hearts,  all  growing  earnest  under  your 
inspiration?  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible.  If  ever  God  marked 
out  one  of  his  servants  for  a  certain  kind  of  work  and  showed 
His  purpose  for  her  by  the  blessing  which  He  gave  to  her  labors, 
He  would  surely  seem  to  have  done  it  for  you.  Can  you  disre- 
gard all  this  and  give  yourself  up  to  a  system  in  which  you  cer- 
tainly do  not  thoroughly  believe,  and  by  your  embracing  of  which 
you  would  assuredly  seem  to  disown  the  method  of  the  healthy, 
human,  and  spontaneous  work  in  which  you  have  accomplished 
so  much? 

"I  need  not  tell  you  that  you  can  make  no  change  in  your  work 
which  will  change  in  the  least  degree  my  faith  in  your  singleness 
of  purpose  and  devotion  to  Christ.  But,  my  dear  friend,  for  your 
own  sake,  and  the  Church's  sake,  and  the  sake  of  the  souls  which 
you  are  training,  may  I  not  beg  you  to  continue  the  work  for 
which  I  have  so  often  thanked  God? 

"May  He  give  you  His  light  abundantly. 

"Your  sincere  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  8,  1885. 

"My  dear  Miss ,  — I  am  more  glad  than  I  can  tell  you. 

I  do  joyfully  and  solemnly  thank  God  for  your  decision.  Now 
may  your  whole  life  realize  more  and  more  in  ever  increasing 
usefulness  and  happiness  that  it  is  God  whom  you  have  followed, 
and  that  in  His  rich  world  is  the  place  where  He  will  give  Him- 
self to  you  most  richly. 

"May  He  bless  you,  my  dear  friend,  always. 
"Faithfully  yours, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

It  may  have  been  partly  in  consequence  of  his  repugnance  to 
anything  savoring  of  the  monastic  tendency  that  he  sympathized 
with  movements  whose  object  was  to  give  women  a  greater  op- 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS   439 

portunity  in  the  world  of  action.  He  felt  the  force  of  the  circum- 
stances begetting  the  two  alternatives,  one  of  which  would  send 
them  to  semi-monastic  seclusion,  and  the  other  throw  open  to 
them  the  spheres  of  influence  which  had  hitherto  been  closed.  In 
municipal  life,  he  felt  that  women  could  fill  an  important  place 
which  could  not  so  well  be  filled  by  men.  He  gave  his  sympathy 
to  those  who  were  laboring  to  this  end. 

To  the  Rev.  Heber  Newton,  who  had  incurred  the  danger  of  an 
ecclesiastical  trial  because  of  his  views  regarding  the  Bible,  he 
writes : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  February  14,  1885. 

"My  dear  Newton, — I  thank  you  very  much  indeed  for  your 
note,  and  I  am  glad  to  know  from  it  that  the  impression  which  I 
formed  this  week  in  New  York  is  correct,  that  the  newspapers  are 
making  the  mischief,  and  that  we  are  not  to  see  your  real  work 
hindered  and  the  Church  disgraced  by  a  presentment  and  a  trial. 
I  am  sure  that  the  work  which  you  have  done  is  one  for  which 
you  may  well  be  thankful,  and  for  which  those  who  love  our 
Church  most  wisely  may  rejoice.  You  have  had  a  true  message 
to  many  whom  others'  messages  have  failed  to  reach.  You  have 
done  very  much  indeed  to  keep  the  mind  of  the  Church  open  to 
the  light.  Whatever  God  may  have  to  say  to  her,  you  have 
made  it  more  possible  for  her  to  hear. 

"That  is  a  great  work  for  any  man  to  have  done.  In  that, 
more  than  in  the  impression  of  his  own  exact  ideas  upon  the 
Church's  mind,  any  progressive  man's  best  service  to  the  Church 
must  lie.  We  certainly  cannot  be  surprised  or  angry  that  such 
a  work  excites  anger  and  opposition.  I,  for  one,  believe  that  no 
opposition  will  exasperate  you,  and  that  you  will  be  kept  from 
any  word  which  can  hinder  the  best  result  of  what  you  have  seri- 
ously and  devoutly  undertaken. 

"I  wish  you  would  rest  yourself  for  a  Sunday  by  coming  on 
and  staying  with  me  and  preaching  in  my  church.     Any  Sunday 
that  you  will  name  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you. 
"Ever  sincerely  yours, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

To  his  brother  he  writes  as  an  officer  of  the  Church  Congress 
with  reference  to  the  fitness  of  one  of  the  appointed  speakers : 

"233  Clarendon,  Street,  Boston,  March  12,  1885. 

"My  dearest  Arthur, — The  man  who  can  say  what  side 

X will  take  on  any  imaginable  topic  is  a  dangerous  member 

of  society.     He  possesses  a  degree  of  insight  and  perspicacity 


440  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

which  it  is  not  safe  to  have  about!     On  the  whole,  I  think  that 

X does  n't  like  aestheticism  in  Christian  worship.     But  I  dare 

not  say  that  his  paper  will  not  be  a  furious  abuse  of  Puritanism 
and  an  assertion  that  only  by  altar  lights  and  superfrontals  can 
the  Church  be  saved!  Still,  do  put  him  on.  Better,  a  thou- 
sand times  better,  X in  the  wrong  than  Y in  the  right ! 

X will  be  interesting  at  any  rate,  which  Y never  was, 

nor  is,  nor  will  be  for  ever  and  ever,  Amen.  Honestly,  I  have 
no  serious  doubt  that  his  talk  would  all  be  on  the  side  of  simpli- 
city and  sense,  and  I  should  think  he  would  be  a  first-rate  man 
for  the  place." 

To  the  familiar  complaint  that  the  churches  were  incompetent 
to  distribute  the  bread  of  life,  or  were  "trying  to  dam  up  the 
water  of  life  that  it  might  be  distributed  only  to  regular  sub- 
scribers," Mr.  Brooks  replied: 

"Such  speeches  have  just  enough  truth  in  them  to  make  them 
pungent,  but  they  are  not  really  true.  The  churches  to-day  are 
honestly  trying  to  bring  the  water  of  life  to  all  men.  They 
blunder  and  they  fail,  but  they  try.  And  I  do  not  know,  for 
myself,  any  other  agency  with  which  I  can  combine  such  poor 
effort  as  I  can  make  in  that  direction,  except  with  them." 

Mr.  Brooks  strove  to  keep  in  view  the  situation  as  it  actually 
was, — there  were  men  whose  aim  was  to  be  good  and  to  be  useful, 
but  who  no  longer  went  to  church  or  cared  to  do  so.  He  alluded 
to  the  relation  of  the  church  to  such  men,  whom  the  community 
might  hold  in  the  highest  respect,  in  a  sermon  preached  at  Apple- 
ton  Chapel  April  26,  when  his  text  was:  "Watch  ye  therefore,  and 
pray  always  that  ye  may  be  accounted  worthy  to  escape  all  these 
things  that  shall  come  to  pass,  and  to  stand  before  the  Son  of 
man"  (Luke  xxi.,  36).  The  division  between  church-goers  and 
non-church-goers  was  not  to  be  explained  by  the  operation  of  a 
"special"  and  a  "common  grace,"  as  the  earlier  Puritan  divines 
had  taught.  There  was  fault  upon  both  sides  to  be  removed,  but 
a  common  ideal  held  both  classes  in  the  same  responsibility, — 
worthiness  to  stand  before  the  Son  of  man. 

In  a  letter  to  his  brother,  written  during  Lent,  he  alludes  to 
details  of  parish  life: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  28,  1885. 
"Dear  Arthur, — You  letter  talking  about  things  to  happen 


LATIN  SCHOOL  ADDRESS  441 

after  Lent  is  over  sounds  delightful,  but  very  far  away  and  mys- 
tical, very  like  the  most  glorious  and  mysterious  passages  of  the 
Revelation.  But  it  will  all  come  to  pass  in  good  time.  Indeed 
it  is  nearer  now  than  it  seems.  Confirmation  is  over,  and  there 
is  only  one  more  Bible  class  after  to-night.  I  wonder  if  those 
innocent  boys  have  any  idea  how  much  I  dread  the  meetings,  and 
how  awfully  I  am  afraid  of  them.  I  am  startled  at  the  idea  of 
holding  a  "mission."  I  don't  know  how,  and,  so  far  as  I  do 
understand  it,  I  don't  think  that  I  have  the  right  sort  of  power. 
I  have  an  idea  that  there  are  mysterious  methods  of  which  I  am 
profoundly  ignorant,  and,  besides,  I  have  made  tremendous  reso- 
lutions about  staying  at  home  next  winter  and  working  up  my 
parish,  which  is  running  down." 

Easter  Day  fell  on  the  5th  of  April,  and  from  that  time  he  gave 
himself  to  the  preparation  of  his  address  before  the  Boston  Latin 
School.  What  the  prayer  he  made  at  Harvard  on  Commemora- 
tion Day  in  1865  was  to  the  University,  this  oration  was  to  the 
Boston  Latin  School  on  the  occasion  of  its  two  hundredth  anni- 
versary. It  revealed  his  genius  in  a  new  light:  his  insight  into 
the  meaning  of  events,  his  power  of  characterizing  historic 
personages,  the  large  atmosphere  wherein  he  environed  an  in- 
stitution, the  exquisite  sentences,  the  humor  and  the  satire,  the 
directness,  the  simplicity,  the  naturalness  of  it  all, — these  char- 
acteristics of  Phillips  Brooks  were  here  seen  in  their  conjunction 
and  at  their  best.  The  address  was  given  on  April  23,  1885.  It 
elicited  boundless  enthusiasm  from  a  constituency  representing 
old  Boston  and  without  a  shadow  of  adverse  criticism.  It  was 
as  a  teacher  in  the  Latin  School  that  he  had  made  his  conspicu- 
ous failure,  in  his  first  start  in  life. 

The  President  of  Trinity  College,  Hartford,  Rev.  Dr.  Pynchon, 
wrote : 

"Trinity  College,  Hartford,  April  27,  1885. 

"Dear  Dr.  Brooks, — I  was  very  sorry  not  to  find  you  at  home 
on  Saturday.  I  wanted  particularly  to  express  to  you  my  very 
high  appreciation  of  your  Latin  School  address.  To  say  that  it 
was  a  masterly  oration,  powerful  and  interesting  and  full  of  humor, 
and  worthy  of  the  most  famous  of  the  old  school  of  Boston  ora- 
tors, would  be  but  small  praise,  because  I  think  its  greatest  merit 
consisted  in  wise  lessons  and  in  its  certainty  of  being  very  useful.  I 
hope  a  very  large  edition  will  be  printed,  and  that  a  copy  will  be 
placed  in  every  family  of  young  children  in  the  entire  city,  and 


442  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

especially  in  the  hands  of  the  rich  and  well-to-do  people.  It  is 
a  very  great  misfortune  to  them  as  well  as  to  the  public  that  they 
no  longer  send  their  children  to  the  city  schools,  and  particularly 
to  the  Latin  School.  The  reason  they  give  for  not  sending  them 
there  is  the  very  reason  for  sending  them,  viz.,  that  they  may 
come  into  contact  with  the  sons  of  the  people,  and  grow  up  with 
them  as  part  of  them.  It  would  be  of  the  greatest  benefit  to 
them  all  their  lives.  For  myself,  I  feel  under  a  debt  to  the  city 
of  Boston  which  I  can  never  repay.  ...  I  have  had  all  my 
life  a  consciousness  of  dignity,  as  having  been  educated  by  the 
city  of  Boston,  and  have  nourished  a  strong  desire  to  be  able  to 
do  something,  some  day,  in  return.  It  was  this  feeling  that 
drew  me  to  Boston  the  other  day.  .  .  .  Your  delineation  of  Mr. 
Gardner  was  to  the  life.  It  was  truly  a  masterly  portraiture.  .  .  . 
I  was  delighted  to  hear  everybody  in  Boston,  from  President 
Eliot  down,  say  that  this  was  positively  the  finest  thing  you  have 
ever  done.  If  so,  it  was  simply  because  it  was  the  offspring  of 
filial  devotion  to  the  old  school  and  its  master.  May  the  oration 
of  the  five-hundredth  anniversary  be  equal  to  it ! " 


On  Saturday,  May  8,  Mr.  Brooks  sailed  for  England  by  the 
Cunard  steamer  Etruria,  arriving  at  Queenstown  the  following 
Saturday,  after  a  passage  of  six  days,  twelve  hours,  and  twenty- 
five  minutes,  regarded  at  the  time  as  the  best  record  made  in 
ocean  travelling.  There  were  many  friends  in  England  who 
were  expecting  his  coming.  He  was  inundated  with  letters, 
before  he  left  home,  asking  him  to  preach  in  many  of  the  most 
important  churches  in  London  and  elsewhere.  When  his  arrival 
in  England  was  announced,  the  flow  of  letters  increased,  reminding 
him  of  conditional  promises  he  had  made  to  preach  here  or  there, 
on  his  previous  visit.  His  first  sermon  was  at  St.  Margaret's, 
Westminster.  At  the  Abbey,  where  he  preached  June  7,  the 
crowd  was  vaster  than  ever  that  surged  into  the  church  before 
the  service  began.  His  Grace  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
Dr.  Benson,  was  not  among  the  early  comers,  and  secured  but  a 
poor  place,  where  it  was  difficult  to  hear.  Mr.  Brooks  alludes 
to  the  occasion  briefly  in  one  of  his  home  letters:  "Preached  in 
Westminster  Abbey  to  a  host  of  people.  The  great  place  looked 
splendid,  and  it  was  fine  to  preach  there." 

Mr.  Brooks  had  preached  notable  sermons  in  the  Abbey, 
but  the  sermon  on  this  occasion,  on  "The  Mother's  Wonder," 
from    the    text,  "Son,  why    hast   thou    thus    dealt  with   us?" 


OXFORD  443 

enhanced  his  reputation  and  brought  to  him  many  letters  of 
gratitude.  On  June  n  he  went  to  Caterham  Valley  to  preach 
the  ordination  sermon  at  the  request  of  the  Bishop  of  Rochester, 
when  there  were  forty  candidates  to  be  presented.  At  the 
Chapel  Royal,  Savoy,  whose  chaplain,  Rev.  Henry  White,  was 
another  friend,  he  preached,  on  June  21,  from  the  text:  "As  free, 
and  not  using  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness,  but 
as  the  servants  of  God."  In  its  issue  for  June  25  the  London 
Truth  refers  to  the  occasion: 

"The  Chapel  Royal,  Savoy,  was  densely  crowded  on  Sunday  to 
hear  Dr.  Phillips  Brooks  preach  his  last  [sic]  sermon  in  London 
during  his  present  visit  to  England.  The  multitude  was  so  great 
that  Dr.  Brooks  might  well  have  imitated  the  practice  of  a  former 
chaplain  of  the  Savoy,  the  renowned  Thomas  Fuller,  and  redeliv- 
ered his  sermon  in  the  garden  which  surrounds  the  Chapel,  to  the 
disappointed  audience  outside." 

On  Thursday,  June  25,  he  preached  twice,  in  the  morning 
at  St.  Mark's,  Kennington,  and  in  the  evening  at  Lincoln  Cathe- 
dral. The  following  Sunday  he  preached  in  Salisbury  Cathedral. 
If  he  could  have  accepted  all  the  invitations  which  came  to  him, 
it  would  have  required  a  sojourn  of  several  months.  But  he 
found  time  to  go  again  to  Harrow,  at  the  urgent  request  of  the 
head  master,  Dr.  Montagu  Butler,  and  roused  the  boys  with  his 
stirring  appeal.  He  went  to  a  meeting  in  behalf  of  the  mission  at 
Delhi,  where  he  spoke  out  of  a  full  heart  and  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  actual  situation.  He  was  asked  by  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, Dr.  Harold  Browne,  to  preach  the  sermon  at  the  opening 
of  the  Church  Congress,  but  was  unable  to  comply  with  the 
request. 

Two  events  stand  out  in  this  visit, — his  reception  at  the  two 
universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  Dr.  Jowett,  the  Master  of 
Balliol,  had  long  been  desirous  that  he  should  come  to  Oxford. 
On  Trinity  Sunday,  May  31,  he  preached  to  a  crowded  congre- 
gation in  St.  Mary's  Church,  among  them  a  large  number  of 
senior  members  of  the  University,  from  the  text  Proverbs  viii., 
1,  22,  23  ;  the  sermon  was  published  in  part  in  the  Oxford  Maga- 
zine for  June  3 ,  and  in  full  in  the  Oxford  Review.  He  was  already 
known  and  "welcomed,  as  the  author  of  much  of  the  delicate 


444  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

analysis  of  human  motive  and  aspiration  which  in  American 
literature  we  have  learned  to  love." 

He  remained  long  enough  at  Oxford  to  become  a  "familiar 
figure"  to  the  students.  On  Monday  night,  June  i,  he  was  a 
guest  of  Trinity  College.  On  the  next  day  he  was  present  at  a 
congregation  in  Convocation  House.  On  June  16  he  went  to 
Oxford  for  a  second  visit,  to  receive  the  honorary  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity,  where  he  was  the  guest  of  the  Vice-Chan- 
cellor, and  of  Dr.  Hatch,  the  author  of  the  Bampton  Lectures 
on  the  Organization  of  the  Early  Christian  Churches.  In  a  con- 
vocation held  in  the  Sheldonian  Theatre,  on  Tuesday,  for  the 
conferment  of  honorary  degrees,  the  Vice-Chancellor  presiding, 
Dr.  Ince,  the  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity,  presented  Mr.  Brooks, 
recounting  the  circumstances  of  his  career:  how,  not  long  after 
his  ordination,  he  had  gained  recognition  in  America  for  keen 
intellectual  power  and  remarkable  eloquence;  as  an  eloquent 
expounder,  also,  of  the  true  Catholic  faith.  Some  years  ago  his 
fame  as  an  orator  and  preacher  had  reached  England.  The 
University  had  now  been  given  an  opportunity  to  hear  him 
preach,  and  he  could,  therefore,  plead  his  own  claim  best  for  the 
honor  of  a  degree. 

That  the  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Oxford  should  com- 
mend Phillips  Brooks  as  a  defender  of  the  Catholic  faith,  and 
that,  too,  in  Oxford,  the  home  of  ecclesiastical  conservatism,  is 
in  harmony  with  the  impression  he  had  made  by  his  sermon  at 
St.  Mary's.  He  had  taken  for  his  text  verses  from  that  chapter 
in  the  book  of  Proverbs  which  reveals  the  influence  of  Hellenic 
thought  upon  the  Hebrew  mind,  where  the  complex  life  of  Deity 
is  suggested  by  the  personification  of  Wisdom:  "The  Lord  pos- 
sessed me  in  the  beginning  of  his  way,  before  his  works  of  old. 
I  was  set  up  from  everlasting,  from  the  beginning,  or  ever  the 
earth  was."  The  sermon  was  marked  by  the  richness  of  imagina- 
tion which  had  characterized  his  earliest  preaching.  Those 
vigils  at  the  Virginia  seminary,  when  for  the  first  time  he  was 
reading  Philo  and  Origen,  had  borne  their  fruit,  as  in  the  ancient 
Church  they  had  prepared  the  way  for  the  fuller  Christian  faith. 
The  subject  of  his  sermon  was  "The  Life  in  God." 

"I  have  known  that  I  was  to  come  here  and  speak  to  you  to- 
day, while  the  whole  air  of  the  place  and  of  the  church  in  which  I 


OXFORD  445 

spoke  was  full  of  the  great  truth  to  which  this  day  belongs, — the 
truth  of  the  Trinity ;  and  I  have  thought  much  of  how  I  might 
best  make  what  I  desired  to  say  seem  fitted  to  the  spirit  of 
this  lofty  festival.  It  has  not  seemed  to  me  best,  even  if  it 
were  in  my  power,  to  enter  into  dogmatic  definition  of  the  doc- 
trine which  tries  to  sum  up  in  itself  the  Christian's  faith  in  God. 
Rather  I  have  chosen  to  preach  to  you  of  Life,  its  glories  and 
its  possibilities,  to  try  to  make  the  men  to  whom  I  was  to  speak 
feel  with  a  deep  enthusiasm  the  splendor  and  the  privilege  of  life 
as  the  mysterious  gift  of  God. 

"It  has  appeared  to  me  that,  speaking  so,  I  should  not  be 
speaking  in  a  way  inappropriate  to  Trinity  Sunday.  For  what 
is  the  truth  of  the  Trinity?  It  is  the  truth  of  the  richness  of  the 
Divine  existence.  The  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 
is  the  attempt  to  tell  in  our  poor  human  language  how  manifold 
and  deep  and  various  is  the  life  of  God.  This  is  the  special 
meaning  of  the  Feast  of  the  Trinity.  Other  festivals  of  the 
Christian  year  remember  what  God  has  done.  Christmas,  Epiph- 
any, declare  the  manifestations  of  His  love  and  power  in  the  ex- 
periences of  His  Son.  Good  Friday  makes  real  anew,  from  year 
to  year,  the  tragedy  in  which  mercy  and  righteousness  triumphed 
over  sin  and  death.  Whitsunday  bears  witness  to  His  perpetual 
presence  with  mankind.  Once  in  the  year,  on  Trinity  Sunday, 
the  Church  dares  to  lift  herself  up,  and  think  with  awe  and  loving 
fear  of  what  God  is.  That  is  the  sublimest  occupation  of  the 
human  mind.  If  the  human  mind  dares  to  think  itself  equal  to 
that  occupation,  dares  to  believe  that  it  has  fathomed  God  or 
surrounded  God  with  its  adventurous  thought,  how  weak  it  grows 
in  its  audacity.  But  if,  as  it  thinks  of  Him,  it  finds  itself  filled 
with  this  one  truth  concerning  Him,  that  He  is  Life,  that  He  is 
infinite  and  endless  Life,  that  not  in  one  tight  compact  personality 
but  in  a  vastness  and  variety  of  being,  which  reaches  our  human 
nature  on  many  sides,  making  it  vital  on  them  all,  that  so  God 
the  Creator,  the  Redeemer,  the  Inspirer,  comes  with  His  mani- 
fold living  influence  to  man, — if  so  the  Church  of  God  can  think 
of  God  on  Trinity  Sunday,  then  what  a  blessed,  what  a  glorious 
festival  it  is.  How  all  of  human  living  and  thinking  becomes 
the  stronger  for  its  devout  observance  I"1 

One  of  the  undergraduates  who  was  present  when  the  degree 
was  conferred  recalls  "the  hearty  applause  which  the  appearance 
of  Phillips  Brooks  commanded": 

"More  than  any  man  I  have  ever  known,  Phillips  Brooks  pos- 
sessed that  which  commanded  instant  trust,  complete  confidence, 

1  Cf.  The  Oxford  Review,  June  3,  1885,  p.  354. 


446  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

— a  power  not  only  the  outcome  of  a  splendid  physique,  eloquent 
of  strength  and  protection,  of  a  broad,  quick,  and  ever-sympa- 
thetic mind,  but  of  a  great  heart  filled  with  love  for  all  his  fel- 
low-beings, a  love  blind  to  all  differences  of  class  and  race,  and 
which,  shining  ever  from  his  kindly  eyes,  lit  up  his  face  with  a 
sunny  smile,  and  made  him  godlike.  I  was  an  undergraduate  at 
Christ  Church  when  Oxford  conferred  the  degree  of  D.D.  upon 
him,  and  I  shall  never  forget  him  as  he  appeared  before  the  Vice- 
Chancellor — Jowett,  I  think — clad  in  his  gown  of  crimson  and 
scarlet,  nor  the  surprise  with  which  many  of  my  Oxford  friends 
regarded  his  splendid  athletic  proportions,  and  his  perfectly 
formed  head.  ...  In  applauding  Phillips  Brooks,  men  did  not 
merely  applaud  a  famous  preacher.  The  praise  was  not  that  of 
the  scholar,  the  artist,  the  athlete,  but  of  those  who  felt  instinc- 
tively when  they  saw  him  that  here  was  a  man  as  God  intended 
a  man  to  be ;  and  there  were  no  hands  that  were  not  busy  clap- 
ping— even  the  heads  of  colleges  forgot  for  once  to  remain 
unmoved." 

On  June  13  he  went  to  Cambridge,  to  fulfil  his  appointment 
as  one  of  the  Select  Preachers  before  the  University.  During 
his  stay  he  was  the  guest  of  the  Vice-Chancellor,  Dr.  Ferrar, 
and  of  Professor  Jebb,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  in  the 
American  Cambridge.  He  had  the  pleasure  of  witnessing  a 
boat  race  on  Saturday  afternoon.  Among  those  invited  to  meet 
him  were  the  late  Professor  Freeman,  and  Dr.  Westcott,  the 
late  bishop  of  Durham.  On  Sunday  he  preached  in  Great  St. 
Mary's,  and  his  subject  was  chosen  well  for  the  place  and  the 
time, — in  substance  the  first  of  his  lectures  on  Tolerance,  already 
referred  to.  The  occasion  has  been  described  by  the  late  Dr. 
Hort,  the  eminent  New  Testament  scholar,  in  a  letter  to  his 
wife  dated  June  14,  1885: 

"St.  Mary's  was  a  strange  sight  to-day.  The  scaffolding  was 
prominent,  now  moved  into  the  middle  of  the  church.  The 
crowds  were  enormous,  at  least  downstairs.  I  do  not  think  I 
have  seen  so  many  M.  A.'s  for  many  years,  and  the  ladies  swarmed 
and  overflowed  everywhere.  The  undergraduates  alone  put  in 
a  comparatively  poor  appearance.  The  labors  of  the  week  had 
probably  been  too  much  for  them.  The  sermon  itself  did  make 
me  very  sorry  indeed  that  you  missed  it.  I  do  not  know  how 
to  describe  the  rather  peculiar  appearance  of  Mr.  Phillips  Brooks. 
He  is  very  tall,  with  a  marked  face  and  manner.  It  is  a  shame 
to  compare  him  to  so  very  unlike  a  man  as  Thackeray,  but  there 
was  a  real  likeness;  something,  also,  of  Mr.  Hotham  and  of  Sedg- 


CAMBRIDGE  447 

wick!  In  the  Bidding  Prayer  it  was  startling  to  hear  him,  "as 
in  private  duty  bound,"  speak  of  Harvard  College,  in  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts.  He  began,  as  Mr.  Litchfield  had  described  after 
hearing  his  Oxford  sermon,  with  quite  extraordinary  rapidity. 
It  was  a  great  effort  to  catch  what  was  said,  the  voice  being  at 
that  time  rather  low  and  by  no  means  emphatic,  and  the  manner, 
though  interesting  to  an  intelligent  hearer,  was  not  impressive 
to  any  one  who  needed  rousing.  But  in  all  these  respects  he 
improved  as  he  went  along,  though  almost  always  too  fast. 
But  the  simplicity,  reality,  and  earnestness  could  hardly  have 
been  surpassed,  and  I  should  imagine  that  few  ever  let  their 
attention  flag.  The  matter  was  admirable, — a  carefully  thought- 
out  exposition  of  Maurice's  doctrine  of  tolerance,  as  the  fruit  of 
strong  belief,  not  of  indifference.  There  was  no  rhetoric,  but 
abundance  of  vivid  illustrations,  never  irreverent,  and  never 
worked  up  for  effect,  but  full  of  point  and  humor.  Altogether 
it  was  one  of  the  sermons  that  it  is  a  permanent  blessing  to  have 
heard.  If  possible,  I  will  get  an  extra  copy  of  the  Review 
before  afternoon  post  on  Wednesday,  that  you  may  be  able  to 
read  it."  1 

The  sermon  excited  so  much  interest,  and  so  many  persons 
expressed  a  strong  desire  to  possess  it,  that  Mr.  Brooks  was 
requested  to  give  it  for  publication,  the  Cambridge  Mission 
offering  to  take  the  responsibility  of  an  edition.  But  the 
offer  was  declined,  as  the  sermon  only  represented  in  part 
what  he  had  in  him  to  say  on  the  subject  of  tolerance. 

There  was  a  continuous  round  of  lunches  and  dinners  marking 
each  day  of  the  month  that  he  remained  in  England.  The  earl 
of  Aberdeen  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  spending  a  Sunday  with 
Mr.  Gladstone.  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the  Bishop  of 
London  were  among  his  hosts  at  dinner  parties.  Among  those 
whom  he  met  for  the  first  time  were  Tyndall  and  Huxley,  Pro- 
fessor Bryce,  and  Mr.  Bosworth  Smith.  The  artistic  side  of  his 
nature  was  kept  in  view  by  Mr.  Edward  Clifford  the  artist,  under 
whose  guidance  he  looked  at  the  work  of  Burne-Jones  and  Ros- 
setti.  He  had  many  friends  among  the  English  clergy,  and  he 
made  many  calls.  Dr.  Vaughan,  Dean  of  Llandaff ,  and  formerly 
Master  of  the  Temple,  writes  to  him: 

"June  30,  1885. 
"It  was  a  refreshment  to  look  upon  you  in  the  church  and 

1  Life  and  Letters,  vol.  ii.,  p.  317. 


448  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

pulpit  at  Kennington,  and  to  feel  assured  that  the  old  strength, 
the  old  grace,  the  old  love,  were  fresh  and  young  in  you  still. 
May  it  be  so  for  many  a  long  year  on  both  sides  of  the  great  deep! 
To  have  known  you,  to  have  had  your  kind  thought  and  your 
kind  wish,  will  always  be  a  memory,  and  a  hope  too,  to 

"Your  respectful,  admiring,  and  loving  friend, 

"C.J.  Vaughan." 

Clergymen  and  laymen,  people  of  every  grade,  told  him  what 
he  had  done  for  them ;  how  he  had  brought  consolation  and  faith 
and  hope  to  many  who  were  walking  in  darkness.  He  had  ex- 
tended his  pastoral  office  till  it  passed  the  limits  of  nationality. 
As  he  leaves  England  he  writes:  "Everything  here  has  been  de- 
lightful. People  have  been  very  kind  and  invitations  flow  in  in 
far  greater  numbers  than  I  can  accept  them.  I  have  left  Eng- 
land (July  15)  after  a  most  delightful  visit.  It  was  full  of  inter- 
esting occurrences,  and  I  shall  look  back  upon  it  with  the  greatest 
pleasure."  In  another  letter  he  speaks  of  his  visits  to  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  and  contrasts  the  two  universities: 

"In  Oxford  I  have  had  two  delightful  visits;  staying  first  with 
Jowett,  and  then  with  Hatch,  who  wrote  the  Bampton  lectures 
about  the  organization  of  the  Church.  It  is  a  curious  world,  full 
now  of  the  freest  thought  running  in  the  channels  of  the  most 
venerable  medievalism,  which  is  still  strong  and  vigorous  and 
controversial.  Almost  everybody  you  see  in  Oxford  believes 
either  too  much  or  too  little.  It  is  hard  to  find  that  balanced 
mind,  so  rational  yet  so  devout,  so  clear  and  yet  so  fair,  with 
which  we  are  familiar  in  the  Club.  Cambridge,  where  I  also  had 
a  pleasant  visit,  seemed  to  me  to  be  freer,  but  less  interesting. 
It  is  less  burdened  with  the  past,  and  also,  it  would  seem,  less 
picturesquely  illuminated  by  it." 

The  remainder  of  the  summer  was  spent  on  the  continent  in 
the  company  of  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine  and  his  family,  who 
joined  him  as  he  was  leaving  England.  The  party  travelled 
through  Germany,  stopping  at  Bonn  and  then  going  through  the 
Tyrol  to  Venice.  He  wrote  numerous  letters  in  a  reminiscent 
mood,  reminding  his  friends  of  the  mutual  associations  they  had 
with  the  place  where  he  was  tarrying.  The  return  brought  back 
memories  in  which  there  was  no  alloy.  In  this  invisible  compan- 
ionship of  his  friends,  he  looked  again  at  Bellini  and  Titian,  Tin- 
toretto and  Carpaccio,  lounged  in  gondolas,  went  from  Venice  to 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS    449 

Switzerland,  gazing  upon  old  scenes  with  fresh  eyes,  recalling  his 
first  visions.     He  wrote  in  these  idle  days  some  of  his  charming 
letters  to  children  where  he  indulged  his  gift  for  arrant  nonsense, 
and  yet  showing  capacity  to  read  the  heart  of  a  genuine  child.1 
To  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar  he  writes : 

"St.  Moritz,  August  2,  1885. 

"I  cannot  bear  to  let  the  whole  summer  pass  without  sending 
you  a  word  of  greeting,  and  so — how  are  you,  my  dear  boy  ?  In 
what  happy  fields  are  you  walking,  with  what  happy  girls?  And 
what  fragile  country  vehicles  are  you  overloading  with  your  pre- 
posterous weight?  For  myself,  I  was  informed  by  the  scales  of 
a  remote  but  entirely  trustworthy  Tyrolese  village  the  other  day 
that  I  had  lost  forty  pounds,  and  now  weigh  only  a  contemptible 
two  hundred  and  sixty.  Since  then  I  have  not  blushed  to  look 
the  meek  diligence  horses  in  the  face,  nor  trembled  as  I  stepped 
into  the  quivering  gondola.  I  was  there  last  week,  at  Venice,  I 
mean.  Antonio  and  Giovanni  still  haunt  the  quay  in  front  of 
Danieli's,  and  tempt  you  to  go  with  them  and  smoke  Minghettis 
on  the  Grand  Canal.  Not  only  there,  but  in  many  places  which 
I  have  touched  this  summer,  the  fragrance  of  your  footsteps 
lingers,  and  often,  when  I  have  fallen  asleep  in  the  railroad  cars, 
I  have  stirred  at  some  slight  noise  which  seemed  to  me  to  be 
Jimmy  feeling  for  his  roll." 

While  in  Venice  he  heard  of  the  death  of  General  Grant : 

"What  a  blessed  release,  after  his  brave  waiting,  and  what  a 
tine,  strong,  simple  figure  he  will  make  in  our  history!  There 
could  not  be  a  more  distinctively  American  life  and  character 
than  his." 

To  Archdeacon  Farrar  he  sends  thanks  for  the  address  he  had 
made  in  Westminster  Abbey  on  the  national  loss : 

"Lucerne,  August  8,  1885. 

"You  cannot  know  how  deeply  it  will  touch  the  hearts  of  our 
people,  and  how  they  all  will  thank  you  for  carefully  studying 
and  valuing  one  to  whom  they  owe  so  much,  and  whose  character 
has  in  many  respects  appealed  to  them  so  strongly.  You  have 
done  very  much  to  bring  the  nations  very  near  to  one  another 
at  this  time  when  the  heart  of  America  is  softened  to  receive 
lasting  impressions." 

*  Cf.  Letters  of  Travel,  pp.  325  ff. 
29 


450  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

On  the  return  from  Switzerland  he  stopped  at  Paris,  where  he 
met  M.  Nyegaard,  and  he  also  listened  for  the  first  time  to  M. 
Bersier.  To  M.  Nyegaard,  after  he  had  reached  home,  he  wrote 
this  letter: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  October  17,  1885. 

"My  dear  Friend, — I  look  back  to  the  hours  which  we  spent 
together  in  Paris  with  sincere  delight.  Do  you  remember  that  we 
spoke  of  Emerson,  our  American  philosopher,  whom  I  ventured 
to  praise,  and  whom  you  said  that  you  would  read?  I  took  the 
liberty,  the  other  day,  of  sending  you  a  copy  of  his  works,  which 
I  trust  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  accept  as  a  token  of  my  affec- 
tionate regard.  I  think  you  will  find  much  in  him  to  like  as  well 
as  much  with  which  you  will  profoundly  disagree. 

"  I  saw  M.  Bersier  on  the  Saturday  after  we  were  together,  and 
spent  a  very  pleasant  hour  at  his  house.  I  was  delighted  with 
him.  There  is  a  vigorous  and  healthy  manliness  about  him, 
mind  and  body,  which  refreshes  and  inspires. 

"The  next  day  I  heard  him  preach,  and  the  preacher  was  the 
man.  You  added  a  new  favor  to  the  many  for  which  I  already 
am  your  debtor  when  you  took  me  to  him. 

"I  have  received  the  Dutch  translation  of  my  Lectures,  Bood- 
schap  en  Getuigenis.  Ponderous  and  incomprehensible  name! 
With  it  there  came  a  courteous  note  from  M.  Valeton.  I  can- 
not read  the  book,  but  I  turn  its  pages  with  interest  and  awe. 
It  is  a  most  tantalizing  tongue.  It  always  seems  as  if  you  ought 
to  be  able  to  read  it,  and  you  never  can.  I  shall  dare  to  hope 
that  something  in  it  may  help  some  far-away  Holland  preachers 
and  congregations  whom  I  shall  never  see." 

To  Mr.  Cooper,  who  had  furnished  an  introduction  to  a  little 
book  whose  object  was  to  improve  the  ways  of  life  among  the 
poorer  classes: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Sunday  evening,  October  4,  1885. 

"Dear  Cooper. — I  thank  you  very  much  for  sending  me  the 
pretty  little  story  about  Alice  Dean.  I  have  read  it  with  great 
interest,  and  shall  profit  by  it  all  I  can.  I  have  also  read  your 
introduction  to  it,  and  shall  put  it  in  practice  right  away.  I 
read  the  paragraphs  on  pages  four  and  five,  and  straightway  had 
my  study  carpet  swept,  and  put  a  dictionary  and  a  commentary 
on  the  table,  and  ordered  some  plaster  figures  of  a  boy  in  the 
street  for  the  mantelpiece,  and  hung  your  picture  and  Willie 
McVickar's  in  a  good  light,  and  told  Katie  to  wash  the  table 
cloth,  and  set  the  table  for  supper ;  but  there  I  came  to  a  stand- 


PARISH  MINISTRY  451 

still.  Whatever  shall  I  do  for  a  bright,  cheerful,  tidy  wife, 
with  clean  children!  These  I  cannot  beg,  borrow,  or  steal,  and 
it  is  too  late  now  to  come  by  them  in  the  regular  way.  So  this 
workingman's  heart  will  never  leap  with  joy,  or  at  least  only 
half  way.  But  there  are  plenty  of  other  workingmen  whom 
your  little  book  will  help,  and  it  was  a  capital  idea  to  have  it 
printed." 

One  of  Dr.  Brooks's  sermons,  written  in  the  fall,  was  on 
the  text,  "  Luke,  the  Beloved  Physician."  Already  there  were  in 
the  air  symptoms  of  the  movement  known  as  Christian  Science. 
In  this  sermon  he  touches  upon  the  organic  relation  between 
good  health  and  good  morals: 

"The  duty  of  physical  health  and  the  duty  of  spiritual  purity 
and  loftiness  are  not  two  duties ;  they  are  two  parts  of  one  duty, 
— which  is  living  the  completest  life  which  it  is  possible  for  man 
to  live.  And  the  two  parts  minister  to  one  another.  Be  good 
that  you  may  be  well;  be  well  that  you  may  be  good.  Both  of 
these  injunctions  are  reasonable,  and  both  are  binding  on  us  all. 
Sometimes  on  one  side  come  exceptions.  Sometimes  a  man  must 
give  up  being  well  in  order  to  be  good.  Never  does  an  exception 
come  on  the  other  side.  Never  is  a  man  under  the  necessity  of 
giving  up  being  good  in  order  to  be  well ;  but  the  normal  life  of 
man  needs  to  be  lived  in  obedience  to  both  commands."1 

He  goes  on  to  compare  the  clerical  and  the  medical  profes- 
sions.    Both  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  their  ends  in  their  means. 

"Theology  has  driven  human  souls  into  exquisite  agony  with 
its  cold  dissection  of  the  most  sacred  feelings,  and  medicine  has 
tortured  sensitive  animals  in  a  recklessness  of  scientific  vivisec- 
tion, which  has  no  relation,  direct  or  indirect,  to  human  good." 

The  reference  to  vivisection  brought  to  him  a  protest  from 
a  physician  who  urged  that  the  real  correlative  to  the  clerical 
sin  he  mentioned  was  the  very  common  medical  sin  of  attending 
to  the  disease  and  ignoring  the  patient's  personal  needs.  "The 
few  physicians  who  vivisect  in  this  country  are  our  most  humane 
men,  respected  and  loved  by  us  all."  To  this  letter  and  to  its 
protest  Dr.  Brooks  replied: 

"You  are  right  about  the  sermon.     The  true  correlative  of  the 
clerical  sin  in  medical  life  is  the  one  which  you  named  and  not 
1  Cf.  Sermons,  vol.  v.,  p.  230. 


452  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  one  which  I  named.  I  shall  make  the  change,  but  I  must 
still  somewhere  put  in  my  word  about  vivisection.  I  do  not 
know  how  much  of  cruelty  there  is.     I  know  that  there  is  some." 

During  the  fall  he  gave  up  much  of  his  time  to  the  prepara- 
tion of  a  chapter  for  the  Memorial  History  of  Boston,  entitled 
"  A  Century  of  Church  Growth,"  1  where  he  reviewed  the  history 
of  the  Episcopal  Church.  His  address  before  the  Boston  Latin 
School  had  shown  that  he  could  make  history  as  real  to  the 
imagination  as  the  passing  event  of  the  day.  He  now  made 
thorough  preparation  for  what  was  to  be  small  in  its  seeming 
result.  He  sought  for  light  on  the  personality  of  every  name. 
He  studied  the  data  in  the  history  of  each  parish,  scanning  its 
reports  for  the  symptoms  of  life,  however  feeble  its  outward 
existence.  Nothing  seemed  small  or  unworthy.  But  he  kept 
in  full  view  the  larger  life  of  the  time  in  order  to  give  the  true 
setting.  There  breaks  forth,  now  and  then,  a  sense  of  humor 
at  the  situation.  After  going  through  the  records  of  the  episco- 
pates of  Bass,  Parker,  Griswold,  and  Eastburn,  he  sighs,  "0 
for  a  touch  of  genius!" 

Mr.  Brooks  had  been  requested  by  his  brother  to  make  some 
inquiries  while  in  England  in  regard  to  clergy  who  were  said  to 
have  accomplished  successful  results  in  holding  missions.  In 
carrying  out  the  request  he  had  become  interested  in  the  subject 
for  himself.  But  it  was  with  hesitation,  and  only  after  misgiv- 
ings overcome,  that  he  committed  himself  to  approving  the  idea 
which  the  mission  involved.  For  the  mission  seemed  to  imply 
that  the  regular  work  of  the  parish  minister  was  not  by  itself 
sufficient  to  awaken  an  interest  in  religion,  and  that  the  pastor 
must  go  outside  of  his  parish  for  aid.  He  deprecated  the  evils  of 
the  revival  system,  with  wandering,  irresponsible  evangelists 
who  caused  ephemeral  excitement  by  drawing  crowds  to  whom 
the  ordinary  ministrations  of  the  churches  were  dull.  It  was  an 
effort  to  introduce  into  the  Episcopal  Church  what  many  regarded 
as  an  element  foreign  to  its  ways.  "On  the  whole,"  he  writes 
to  his  brother  Arthur,  "  I  am  very  glad  it  [the  mission]  is  to  take 
place.  It  will  at  least  break  the  rigidity  of  the  church's  ways, 
and  strike  the  true  keynote  of  preaching.  Boston  will  be  ready 
when  New  York  has  proved  that  it  is  the  true  thing  to  do." 

1  Cf.  Essays  and  Addresses,  where  it  is  published  in  separate  form. 


OPTIMISM  453 

The  usual  routine  of  work  in  the  fall  was  varied  by  the  visit  to 
this  country  of  Archdeacon  Farrar,  who  during  his  stay  in  Boston 
was  the  guest  of  Mr.  Brooks,  and  on  All  Saints'  Day  preached  for 
him  in  Trinity  Church.  Mr.  Brooks  had  been  looking  forward  to 
the  visit,  and  had  done  what  he  could  to  bring  it  about  by  urging 
it  upon  his  friend.  He  was  anxious  that  Dr.  Farrar  should  see 
the  country  to  advantage.  He  rejoiced  in  the  cordial  welcome 
everywhere  given  to  Dr.  Farrar,  as  helping  to  bring  England  and 
America  to  that  better  understanding  of  each  other  which  should 
lead  to  international  amity. 

On  Thanksgiving  Day,  he  chose  for  his  text  the  words  describ- 
ing the  dream  of  Nebuchadnezzar:  "I  saw  a  dream  which  made 
me  afraid,  and  the  thoughts  upon  my  bed  and  the  visions  of  my 
head  troubled  me," — where  "the  Babylonian  king  had  summed 
up  his  realm  in  his  feelings."  The  subject  of  the  sermon  was  "  The 
Temper  of  a  Time,"  how  one  ought  to  feel  in  the  days  which 
were  passing.  For  our  own  time  this  was  the  summary :  ( i )  great 
sense  of  danger;  (2)  great  expectation;  (3)  great  hope  in  man;  (4) 
great  trust  in  God.  He  dwelt  on  the  function  of  wonder  as  indis- 
pensable to  any  man  or  age.  He  passed  in  review  the  current 
feeling  in  regard  to  social  changes,  mechanical  discoveries,  and 
theological  disturbances.  It  was  indispensable  for  a  man,  if  he 
would  help  his  age,  that  he  should  be  a  man  of  the  time.  A  value 
was  to  be  set  upon  every  movement  which  was  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, however  slight  or  unconnected,  because  no  man  could  say 
how  or  where  it  would  ultimate.  There  should  be  an  earnest 
desire  to  get  at  the  heart  of  things  under  their  form, — yet  keeping 
forms, — the  mixture  of  conservatism  and  radicalism.  He  saw 
grounds  for  hope  in  the  pursuit  of  mechanical  discoveries  and 
pointed  out  their  true  value.  Everything  should  be  valued 
which  tended  to  increase  true  faith  in  and  true  hope  for  man  in 
the  reign  of  the  coming  democracy.  Let  religion  grow  deeper  and 
more  simple.  Freedom  was  the  word  to  be  applied  as  a  test  in 
the  political  confusion  which  threatened  to  dissolve  political 
parties.  But  the  supreme  need  was  for  strong  moral  purpose,  as 
the  ground  and  basis  of  everything. 

Although  Phillips  Brooks  was  an  optimist,  he  was  forced  to 
wrestle  in  secret  with  the  foes  of  hope.  He  could  not  assume 
that  all  was  well  until  he  had  measured  the  motives  which  begot 


454  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  pessimism.  He  found  them  in  the  theoretical  philosophy  of 
fatalism,  in  partial  views  of  life,  in  personal  disappointment,  in 
an  affectation  of  contempt.  "Pessimism  comes  from  and  tends 
to  the  loss  of  individuality."  While  he  was  engaged  in  working 
up  a  sermon  on  the  subject,  texts  of  Scripture  flashed  upon  his 
mind:  "In  the  daytime  he  led  them  with  a  cloud,  and  all  the 
night  through  with  a  light  of  fire."  Every  theist  must  be  an 
optimist,  but  before  one  could  say,  "The  Lord  is  good,"  he  must 
take  in  the  range  of  the  divine  activity :  "  See  now  that  I,  even  I, 
am  He,  and  there  is  no  God  with  me.  I  kill  and  I  make  alive, 
I  wound  and  I  heal ;  neither  is  there  any  that  can  deliver  out  of 
my  hand."  He  saw  a  truth  in  pessimism,  something  from  which 
an  inspiration  for  higher  living  could  be  obtained.  He  con- 
demns the  folly  of  vague  optimism  as  of  vague  pessimism,  or  of 
vagueness  anywhere.  "Define  yourself."  Schopenhauer  he 
designates  as  a  "scared  pessimist."  Christ's  view  of  man  must 
be  the  true  one — "not  to  condemn  the  world,  but  that  the 
world  through  Him  might  be  saved";  and  yet  He  says,  "For 
judgment  have  I  come  into  this  world."  The  salvation  from 
pessimism  is  in  the  unselfish  service  of  men.  To  get  at  the  facts 
of  life  and  place  them  in  their  true  light  is  the  first  duty.  Much 
of  the  pain  in  the  world  comes  from  memory  and  from  anticipa- 
tion, from  the  past  and  from  the  future,  not  from  the  present. 
He  repeats  the  lines  of  Victor  Hugo: 

"C'est  le  bonheur  de  vivre 
Qui  fait  la  gloire  de  mourir. " 

He  recalls,  in  a  picture  of  Domenichino's,  at  Bologna,  the  little 
angel  trying  the  point  of  one  of  the  thorns  in  the  Crown  of  Thorns 
with  his  finger.  He  notes  the  correspondence  of  general  human 
good  and  ill,  hope  and  despair,  with  the  same  in  the  personal  life. 
"Progress  must  be  seen  as  law,  as  well  as  fact.  There  remains, 
(i)  the  perpetual  faith  with  which  men  trust  each  other;  (2)  the 
hopefulness  with  which  they  want  to  live;  (3)  the  complacency 
with  which  they  see  their  children  start  out  in  life.  "The  Lord 
is  good.'  The  book  Ecclesiastes  gives  the  picture, — enjoyment 
with  a  background  of  judgment;  neither  wanton  self-indulgence 
nor  cynical  pleasure  and  hatred ;  neither  idle  optismism  nor  wan- 
ton pessimism." 


OPTIMISM  455 

Among  the  sermons  which  issued  from  the  inward  process, 
weighing  the  materials  of  his  own  life  as  well  as  studying  the 
world  around  him,  there  are  three,  written  at  this  time  or  very 
nearly:  the  "Battle  of  Life"  (188s),1  the  "Giant  with  the 
Wounded  Heel"  (1886), 2  and  the  "Sword  Bathed  in  Heaven" 
(1886. )3  In  these  sermons,  the  types  of  many  others,  there  is 
the  tone  of  a  man  in  the  thick  of  mortal  combat,  a  giant  in  the 
toils,  and  yet  in  the  process  of  escape,  who  discerns  light  and 
victory.  The  essential  characteristic  of  human  life,  which  the 
age  is  in  danger  of  overlooking,  is  perpetual  warfare, — of  all  life, 
whether  in  celestial  regions  or  in  earthly  places.  God  is  in  the 
conflict  as  well  as  every  man,  and  the  battle  is  of  Titanic  pro- 
portions. There  is  victory  for  every  man,  though  the  type  of 
human  life  at  its  best  must  be  the  giant  with  the  wounded  heel. 
There  is  victory  for  every  man,  but  on  one  condition,  that  the 
sword  with  which  he  fights  must  have  been  bathed  in  heaven. 

To  the  Hon.  George  F.  Hoar,  senator  from  Massachusetts, 
who  wrote  Mr.  Brooks,  asking  why  St.  Paul,  in  the  midst  of  his 
lofty  statement  of  the  great  doctrine  of  immortality,  in  the 
fifteenth  chapter  of  First  Cornithians,  should  break  the  connec- 
tion by  the  thirty-third  verse,  "Evil  communications  corrupt 
good  manners,"  Mr.  Brooks  sends  a  letter,  interesting  and 
characteristic,  as  though  he  read  the  apostle  through  the  know- 
ledge of  himself : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  3,  1885. 

"My  dear  Sir, — I  am  sure  that  we  must  all  have  been  struck, 
as  you  have  been,  by  the  curiously  incongruous  tone  of  the  thirty- 
third  verse  of  St.  Paul's  fifteenth  chapter  of  his  First  Epistle  to 
the  Corinthians. 

"I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  finding  the  explanation,  first,  in 
the  fact  that  the  verse  is  a  quotation  (from  Menander),  and  one, 
no  doubt,  so  familiar  to  the  people  that  it  had  become  a  pro- 
verb; and,  second,  that  the  Greek  words  had  none  of  that 
particular  tone  which  belongs  to  the  words  which  our  English 
translators  used;  particularly  the  word  'manners,'  which  surely 
has  not  either  the  dignity  or  the  range  of  the  Greek  ?f6^. 

"At  the  same  time,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  altogether  characteris- 
tic of  St.  Paul  to  interrupt  a  glowing  and  lofty  argument  by  a 

1  Cf.  Sermons,  vol.  vi. 

*  Cf.  Ibid.,  vol.  iv. 

*  Cf .  Ibid. 


456  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

few  words  of  special  and  homely  exhortation  and  warning  sug- 
gested by  what  he  is  saying,  then  resuming  his  argument  all  the 
more  loftily  beyond.  Such  passages  are  not,  I  think,  uncommon 
with  him.  Certainly  they  bring  out  very  forcibly  the  way  in 
which  the  two  impulses,  of  high  speculation  and  of  care  for 
men's  behavior  and  character,  were  both  always  present  with 
him;  and  I  have  come  to  feel  that  in  this  particular  passage  the 
two  impulses  add  to  each  other's  vividness  and  force. 

"There  are  a  few  words  on  these  verses  in  Dean  Stanley's 
Commentary  on  the  Epistles  to  the  Corinthians,  which  seem  to 
me  to  be  suggestive,     I  am,  my  dear  sir, 

"  Yours  most  sincerely, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 


On  the  13th  of  December,  1885,  Phillips  Brooks  crossed 
the  line,  the  approach  to  which  he  had  been  dreading,  and  kept 
his  fiftieth  birthday.  He  seems  to  make  light  of  the  event,  say- 
ing, "I  reached  the  half  century,  and  shook  myself  as  I  started 
out  upon  another  half  century."  But  this  is  on  the  surface. 
In  reality  he  was  beginning  to  assume  that  youth  was  over. 
He  began  to  speak  of  himself  as  old.  In  addressing  young  men 
he  would  assume  that  he  was  a  spectator  of  the  scene  in  which 
they  were  the  actors.  When  he  was  remonstrated  with  for  taking 
such  a  tone,  which  only  pained  those  who  listened  to  him  and 
who  were  surprised  at  his  saying  of  himself  what  they  did  not 
believe  was  true,  he  would  answer  that  he  supposed  he  felt  it 
or  he  would  not  say  it. 

To  Rev.  G.  A.  Strong  he  writes: 

"  December  24,  1885. 

"  I  was  fifty  a  week  ago  last  Sunday  and  you  are — who  can  say 
how  old?  Well,  no  doubt  it  is  all  right,  but  there  is  getting  to  be 
a  very  'John  Anderson  my  Jo  John'  feeling  about  it  all  which 
I  don't  like  nearly  so  well  as  the  old  cheery,  hopeful  feeling  of 

the  days  when and were  daily  and  hourly  visions.     I 

send  you  still  with  my  own  venerable  hand,  like  Paul  the  aged, 
my  best  thanks  and  heartiest  good  wishes.  .  .  . 

"  Ever  affectionately, 

"P.  B." 

The  following  extracts  are  from  his  note-book  made  while 
travelling  during  the  summer  of  1885: 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK      457 

"  Sermon  on  the  impulse  every  now  and  then  in  every  one  to 
get  loose  from  the  despotic  course  of  life  and  break  things.  The 
Radical  in  everybody.     The  love  of  camping  out." 

"Sermon  on  'As  he  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he.'  Cf.  Des- 
cartes, Cogito,  ergo  sum.     The  relation  of  thought  to  life." 

"As  crossing  a  Paris  or  a  London  street,  when  we  are  half  way 
over,  we  cease  to  look  for  danger  on  the  one  side,  and  begin  to 
fear  it  only  on  the  other,  so  of  growing  old." 

"Some  men  make  themselves  God,  without  knowing  what  they 
are  doing.  The  deity  they  appeal  to  is  really  their  deeper, 
higher  self.  When  they  feel  God's  approval,  it  is  really  their 
own  self-praise.  When  God  reproaches  them,  it  is  their  own 
self-rebuke.  When  they  go  apart  from  the  world  to  hold  com- 
munion with  Him,  it  really  is  an  entrance  into  their  own  self- 
consciousness.  To  other  men  some  good  fellow-man,  more  or 
less  consciously  and  completely  enlarged  into  an  ideal  of  human- 
ity, answers  the  same  purpose,  and  is  in  reality  their  God.  To 
still  others,  a  vague  presence  of  a  high  purpose  and  tendency 
felt  in  everything.  Tennyson's  'one  increasing  purpose,'  aud 
Arnold's  'something  not  ourselves  which  makes  for  righteous- 
ness.' This  fulfils  the  end  and  makes  the  siibstitute  for  God. 
But  none  of  these  supply  the  place  of  a  true  personality  outside 
ourselves,  yet  infinitely  near  to  us." 

"Clear  plea  for  search  after  truth  in  religion,  as  distinct  from 
search  for  pleasure  or  for  safety.  Protest  against  aesthetic  ritu- 
alism and  against  stubborn  orthodoxy." 

"Text:  'The  summer  is  ended.'  For  most  of  us,  the  ship 
going  home.  A  period  of  relaxation  over.  A  touch  of  disap- 
pointment. It  must  be  so  wherever  there  is  no  real  ideality  and 
lofty  hope.  The  summer  a  ripening  of  spring  seed  into  autumn 
fruit.  True  value  of  foreign  travel  in  ripening  home  affections 
and  connections.  The  unity  of  a  life  is  in  God.  His  nearness. 
The  summer  and  the  whole  year  conception  of  life  make  it  de- 
pend on  God  as  the  sun. 

"There  is  a  true  and  a  false  simplicity,  and  when  the  time 
comes  that  simplicity  is  desired  it  makes  all  the  difference 
whether  we  choose  the  true. 

"Such  a  time  does  come — hatred  of  all  complication,  in  all 
deeper  moods,  in  all  mature  life.  Then  shall  you  get  simplicity 
by  exorcism  or  by  centrality  ? 

"i.     In  civilization.     Let  us  return  to  barbarism,  let  us  cut 


458  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

off  elaborations?  Not  so!-  But  let  us  get  sight  of  the  one  in- 
creasing purpose. 

"2.  In  the  personal  nature.  Give  us  the  simple  man?  Nay, 
so  you  get  the  meagre  man.  Give  us  the  manifold  man,  with  one 
great  purpose. 

"3.  In  thought.  Let  us  stop  this  ranging  of  thought  every- 
where?    But  no,  let  us  think  devoutly. 

"4.  In  action.  Let  us  stop  and  come  down  to  simple  life? 
No,  but  men  should  be  nobler  by  it  all." 

"Text:  'Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God.'  God's  great  asser- 
tion of  existence,  as  if  that  were  so  much.  'Be  still,' — the  hush 
of  this  endless  talk. 

"The  perplexities  of  life  (labor,  etc.),  ignoring  first  principles 
and  the  deeper  powers  at  work.  The  whole  return  to  what  seems 
pure  theism.     Battling  in  God." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1886. 

ESSAY  ON  BIOGRAPHY.  ELECTION  AS  ASSISTANT  BISHOP 
OF  PENNSYLVANIA.  VISIT  TO  CALIFORNIA.  VIEWS 
ON  IMMIGRATION.  ABOLITION  OF  COMPULSORY  AT- 
TENDANCE ON  RELIGIOUS  SERVICES  AT  HARVARD. 
NORTH  ANDOVER.  CHAUTAUQUA  ADDRESS  ON  "  LIT- 
ERATURE AND  LIFE."  DEATH  OF  RICHARDSON. 
FOURTH  VOLUME  OF  SERMONS.  PROTEST  AGAINST 
CHANGING  THE  NAME  OF  THE  PROTESTANT  EPISCO- 
PAL CHURCH. 

In  the  spring  of  1886  Dr.  Brooks  was  elected  Assistant  Bishop 
of  Pennsylvania,  in  succession  to  Rt.  Rev.  William  Bacon  Ste- 
vens, whose  infirmities  called  for  aid  in  his  episcopal  duties. 
When  the  question  was  brought  before  him  he  wrote  to  Rev.  W. 
F.  Paddock,  of  Philadelphia: 

"February  26,  1886. 

"My  dear  Paddock, — The  idea  of  you  writing  to  me  like  that! 
You,  that  have  known  me  from  my  infancy,  that  have  played  with 
me  on  the  pleasant  slopes  of  Shooter's  Hill,  that  have  roamed 
with  me  in  St.  George's,  that  have  preached  side  by  side  with  me 
in  Philadelphia!  That  you  should  think  that  now,  in  my  declin- 
ing years,  I  would  be  a  bishop!  No,  my  dear  fellow,  I  was  not 
made  for  such  a  fate.  Stop,  I  beseech  you,  any  movement  that 
looks  at  all  towards  setting  me  up  for  that  most  unsuitable  place. 
Kill  it  in  the  nest!  Nip  it  in  the  bud!  Blight  it  or  ere  it  be 
sprung  up!  Yet  let  me  not  appear  like  a  fool,  declining  and 
rejecting  an  office  which  I  never  have  had  offered  me!  This 
letter  is  for  your  own  friendly  eye  alone,  and  I  tell  you,  as  if  we 
sat  upon  the  steps  of  St.  George's  and  talked  it  over,  that  I  am 
neither  suited  nor  inclined  to  be  a  bishop,  nor  do  I  see  how  any 
thing  could  make  me  one.     There!" 

459 


46o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

As  the  time  for  the  election  approached  the  feeling  was  univer- 
sal among  his  friends  that  he  must  be  chosen  the  Bishop  of  Penn- 
sylvania. Phillips  Brooks  took  a  special  interest  in  the  subject 
because  he  hoped  that  Dr.  McVickar,  of  Holy  Trinity  Church 
(now  Bishop  of  Rhode  Island),  would  be  elected.  Against  Dr. 
McVickar,  however,  an  objection  had  been  urged  that  on  a 
certain  occasion  he  had  gone  to  hear  a  lecture  by  the  Rev.  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  an  eminent  Unitarian  minister  of  Boston.  To 
a  prominent  layman  in  Philadelphia,  who  assured  Mr.  Brooks 
he  could  be  elected,  and  urged  him  to  accept,  he  wrote  this  letter 

in  reply: 

"Chicago,  Illinois,  May  2,  1886. 

"  Dear  Mr.  C, — Let  me  say  how  good  I  think  you  are  to  want 
me  to  be  your  bishop  after  all  you  have  seen  of  me  for  this  last 
quarter  of  a  century.  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  think  it  best, 
partly  because  I  do  not  think  I  would  make  a  good  bishop,  and 
partly  because  I  am  so  disgusted  that  McVickar  should  be  so 
contemptibly  thrown  over  for  such  an  absurd  reason.  Why,  my 
dear  Mr.  C,  I  would  go  and  hear  Freeman  Clarke  every  week  if 
I  had  a  chance.  If  even  you,  who  represent  McVickar's  friends, 
call  that  an  'indiscreet  act,'  why,  I  think  the  diocese  deserves 

a  Mr.  X or  worse !     A  man  may  go  and  hear  mummeries  at 

St.  Clement's,  or  twaddle  at  a  hundred  churches,  but  if  he  goes 
to  hear  a  great  man  and  an  old  saint  talk  essential  Christianity 
under  another  name,  he  is  said  to  have  denied  Christ,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  foolish  things.  No.  Gather  around  McVickar.  Do 
not  feebly  apologize  for  him,  but  defend  and  approve  him,  and 
declare  your  manly  contempt  for  this  kind  of  opposition  to  him; 
and  if  he  is  defeated  upon  this  ground,  let  him  fall  honorably  in 

the  midst  of  his  friends,  and  let  Mr.  X have  the  diocese.     I 

do  not  know  why  anybody  should  want  it  if  that  is  the  stuff  it 
is  made  of." 

When  the  convention  met  on  May  5,  after  eight  ballots  had 
been  taken  without  result,  on  the  ninth  ballot  Dr.  Brooks 
was  elected,  receiving  eighty-two  clerical  votes, — a  majority  of 
two  of  the  total  number  of  votes  cast,  and  a  plurality  of  six- 
teen over  the  vote  for  the  rival  candidate.  The  clerical  vote  was 
at  once  ratified  by  that  of  the  laity,  the  lay  vote  standing  sixty- 
four  to  thirty- three. 

The  news  of  his  election  reached  him  by  telegraph  in  the  West, 
in  the  Territory  of  New  Mexico.  Although  his  decision  was  a 
foregone  conclusion,  he  reserved  his  formal  answer  until  he  snould 


PENNSYLVANIA  EPISCOPATE      461 

have  taken  two  weeks  for  consideration.  There  was  no  lack  of 
pressure  to  induce  him  to  accept.  Among  many  letters  was  one 
from  a  clergyman  who  wrote: 

"I  am  emboldened  by  what  I  believe  is  a  fact  which  has  several 
times  appeared  in  your  life,  and  which  convinces  me  that  you 
possess  the  rare  power  of  revising  and  changing  your  purposes, 
even  when  most  deliberately  and  conscientiously  formed,  pro- 
vided sufficient  reason  to  do  so  is  made  evident  to  you.  You 
shrank  back  from  the  first  work  you  were  called  to  in  Philadel- 
phia,— in  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  You  shrank  back  still  more 
from  the  call  to  Holy  Trinity,  and  again  God  mercifully  led  you 
to  reconsider  your  refusal.  When  you  went  to  Boston,  it  was 
only  after  you  had  said  No,  and  had  thought  it  your  duty  not 
to  go." 

Before  sending  his  formal  letter  to  the  Convention  declining 
the  election  he  wrote  to  Dr.  McVickar: 

"Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico,  May  9,  1886. 

"How  is  it  that  you  have  allowed  this  thing  to  come  about? 
Surely  my  declaration  to  Cooper  was  plain  and  positive  enough. 
To  that  I  hold,  and  when  your  letter  comes  I  shall  decline.  My 
dear,  dear  Boy,  I  would  do  otherwise  and  be  your  bishop  if  I 
could,  but  I  cannot.  You  will  not  think  on  such  a  question  as 
this  that  I  have  been,  or  am,  light  or  frivolous  or  prejudiced. 
I  have  considered  it  earnestly  and  solemnly.  I  did  not  think 
that  there  was  any  chance  of  my  being  elected,  but  I  considered 
it  exactly  as  if  I  thought  there  was,  and  conscience,  soul,  and 
judgment  all  said  no  !  I  see  no  reason  whatsoever  for  a  change. 
I  am  sorry  to  compel  another  convention  and  election,  but  I 
cannot  let  myself  take  a  place  which  is  not  mine  simply  to  save 
that  trouble.  Besides,  in  some  sense,  it  is  the  Convention's 
fault,  for  I  said,  clearly  as  I  knew  how,  that  I  could  not  accept. 

"You  will  not  think  I  am  ungrateful  to  you  all.  I  love  you 
dearly.  That  my  old  friends  should  have  proposed  me  and 
elected  me  touches  me  more  deeply  than  I  can  say,  nor  am  I 
careless  of  the  pleasure  it  would  be  to  come  and  live  in  the  old 
places  with  the  old  friends  and  new.  Nor  am  I  foolishly  con- 
temptuous of  the  episcopate.  But  simply  I  must  not.  I  am 
not  made  for  it.  I  can  do  better  work  elsewhere  than  I  could 
do  as  bishop.  So  my  decision  is  absolute  and  final,  and  when 
your  committee's  formal  letter  comes,  I  shall  write  and  say  that 
you  must  choose  again.  I  am  so  heartily  sorry  that  my  telegram 
to  Cooper  did  not  come  before  the  Convention  had  adjourned. 
Then  you  could  have  made  your  other  choice  at  once." 


462  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

On  May  24  he  wrote  him  again,  from  San  Francisco: 

"I  have  declined.  I  sent  the  letters  yesterday.  I  told  them 
all  beforehand  how  it  must  be  so,  and  said  that  if  they  chose  me 
I  could  not  accept, — and  yet  they  chose  me.  I  do  not  complain 
of  that,  I  should  be  a  beast  if  I  did.  They  were  very  good,  and 
I  am  proud  of  their  regard.  But  this  choice  does  not  bring  any- 
thing to  change  my  previous  judgment.  It  was  by  a  bare  major- 
ity, and  after  considerable  struggle.  It  simply  presents  the 
chance  to  be  bishop  which  I  had  considered  in  its  possibility 
before,  and  yet  I  have  carefully  considered  it  again.  Along  the 
arid  plains  of  Arizona  I  turned  it  over  in  the  thing  I  call  my 
mind.  Under  the  orange  trees  of  Pasadena  I  let  it  soak  into 
me  with  the  sunshine.  Among  the  cataracts  of  Yosemite  I  lis- 
tened to  the  tempting  invitation.  But  it  was  no  good.  I  could 
not  see  myself  there  doing  those  things  that  a  bishop  does,  and 
so  I  wrote  a  formal  letter  (true,  though,  every  word  of  it)  to 
the  committee,  and  declined;  so  now  that  is  all  over.  .  .  . 

"What  a  queer  town  this  is,  and  who  would  live  here  if  he 
could  live  anywhere  else!  But  some  of  the  beauty  of  this  great 
Pacific  slope  passes  one's  dreams.  I  am  ashamed  some  times  to 
think  what  a  Yankee  I  am,  that  all  the  beauty  of  the  rest  of  the 
world  makes  me  love  our  own  ugly  little  corner  of  it  all  the  more 
intensely." 

From  the  Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts,  he  received 
this  letter  of  congratulation: 

"Ashfield,  May  15,  1886. 

"My  dear  Brother, — Yesterday  at  our  Diocesan  Missionary 
Meeting  at  Amherst  I  saw  the  announcement  that  you  had  de- 
cided to  remain  at  your  present  field  of  labor,  and  decline  the 
honorable  and  great  work  to  which  you  had  been  called  in  Penn- 
sylvania. I  rejoice  that  you  can  see  it'  your  duty  to  stay  with 
us  and  still  contribute  so  greatly  as  God  has  enabled  you  to  do 
to  the  building  up  of  His  Church  in  our  Diocese  and  of  His  king- 
dom in  the  hearts  of  men.  May  He  increase  and  multiply  your 
great  influence  for  good  in  your  present  field,  and  justify  by 
your  abiding  work  and  holy  success  your  decision  that  your 
present  field  is  your  post  of  duty. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  we  should  have  done  had  you  gone  from 
us ;  and  with  many  other  considerable  cares,  I  am  truly  thankful 
that  I  have  not  got  to  work  out  that  problem. 
"I  am,  dear  Brother,  yours  sincerely, 

"Benj.  H.  Paddock," 

It  was  thought  by  some  that  Mr.  Brooks  had  scant  respect 


PENNSYLVANIA  EPISCOPATE       463 

for  the  office  of  a  bishop.  He  may  have  expressed  himself 
carelessly  on  the  subject,  and  given  rise  to  the  impression.  He 
was  alive  to  the  incongruousness  of  the  situation  when  the  office 
was  not  adequately  filled.  But  he  had  nothing  of  the  Puritan 
dislike  for  the  office  in  itself.  Whenever  personal  criticism  went 
so  far  as  to  suggest  such  a  thought,  he  quickly  and  strongly  re- 
sented it.  The  office  was  a  high  one,  he  would  then  assert, 
and  it  only  needed  to  see  the  right  man  in  its  occupancy  to 
bring  out  its  charm  and  its  efficiency.  He  hoped  the  day 
would  come,  as  he  remarked  in  one  of  his  letters  on  the  subject, 
when  "the  episcopate  will  stand  not  simply  for  the  restraint 
and  regulation,  but  for  the  inspiration  of  the  Church." 

While  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  California,  his  attention  was  called 
for  the  first  time  to  the  question  of  the  restriction  of  immigra- 
tion to  this  country,  particularly  of  the  Chinese.  To  Mr.  R.  T. 
Paine  he  writes,  June  i,  1886: 

"One  thing  all  the  Americans  say  about  the  Chinamen, — that 
no  more  must  come.  All  intelligent  people  own  that  they  could 
not  have  done,  and  could  not  now  do,  without  them,  and  would 
by  no  means  drive  out  those  that  are  here;  but  they  would  let 
in  no  more.  The  unanimity  on  this  last  point  is  striking.  I 
have  not  met  with  an  exception.  And  yet  one  is  much  struck 
also  by  hearing  the  best  of  qualities, — thrift,  industry,  self- 
control,  and  patience, — so  often  made  a  large  part  of  the  burden 
of  indictment  against  the  poor  Mongolian.  Certainly  the  look 
of  Chinatown  and  its  inhabitants  is  surprisingly  prepossessing 
when  one  considers  that  he  is  seeing  the  very  dregs  and  refuse 
of  a  race.  If  these  are  the  lowest,  the  highest  specimens  must 
be  something  very  good  indeed. 

"I  have  had  a  lot  of  correspondence  about  the  episcopate  in 
Pennsylvania.  There  was  no  moment  when  I  thought  of  going. 
How  could  I,  so  long  as  I  dared  to  believe  that  you  all  still 
wanted  me  to  stay  in  Boston?  Will  you  tell  me,  honestly  and 
truly,  and  like  a  friend,  when  you  think  it  is  best  to  go  away? 
Until  you  do,  I  shall  rejoice  to  come  back  year  after  year  and 
do  the  best  I  can.  I  am  going  back  this  year,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  my  work  in  Trinity  is  not  yet  done." 

Among  the  motives  holding  him  to  his  work  in  Boston  was  his 
relation  to  Harvard  University.  A  change  was  now  impending, 
when  the  University  would  rely  upon  his  moral  support.  One 
of  the  chief  difficulties  which  confronted  the  Board  of  Chaplains 


464  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

was  the  question  of  compulsory  attendance  on  prayers.  They 
encountered  a  feeling  which  had  long  been  growing  among  the 
students,  that  it  was  not  becoming  that  attendance  on  religious 
services  should  be  required. 

For  several  years  the  subject  had  been  under  discussion  by 
the  Faculty,  the  Overseers,  and  the  Corporation.  President 
Eliot  and  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  were  among  those  who 
deprecated  the  growing  opinion  among  the  students,  and  were 
averse  to  the  abandonment  of  a  requirement  which  went  back 
in  its  origin  to  the  foundation  of  Harvard  College,  and  was  also 
established  in  other  colleges  and  institutions  of  learning  through- 
out the  country.  It  was  feared  that  "  the  abandonment  of  this 
time-honored  custom  would  be  fraught  with  serious  consequences 
to  the  whole  fabric  of  our  civilization."  Phillips  Brooks  had 
at  first  been  firm  in  resisting  the  change.  A  petition  of  the 
students  in  1885  had  been  referred  to  a  committee  of  three,  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  to  give  the  question  thorough  considera- 
tion, and  return  a  final  and  exhaustive  answer  to  the  students' 
request.  It  was  a  relief  to  many  when  the  answer  came  that 
Harvard  remained  true  to  the  ancient  ways.  One  of  the 
reasons  given  for  rejecting  the  petition  was  that  "Harvard 
College  can  ill  afford  the  loss  of  reputation  which  would 
ensue  on  its  being  the  first  of  all  literary  institutions  in 
New  England  to  abandon  religious  observances."  That  the 
petition  had  a  large  number  of  signatures  attached  was  regarded 
as  of  no  significance  seeing  that  "it  is  well  known  how  easily 
such  signatures  are  obtained."  It  was  assumed  that  if  students 
were  not  required  to  go  to  prayers  they  would  not  go. 

Hardly,  however,  had  Phillips  Brooks  signed  the  report  than 
his  mind  began  to  go  beneath  the  surface  of  both  the  petition 
and  its  answer.  It  might  be  possible  that  the  students  had 
better  reasons  for  their  request  than  they  alleged.  It  was 
possible  that  the)''  would  continue  their  attendance,  even  if  it 
were  not  required.  If  religion  was  natural  for  man  and  made 
its  appeal  to  what  was  genuinely  human,  it  might  be  thrown  on 
its  own  native  resources  without  being  bolstered  up  by  extraneous 
authority.  It  pained  him  to  call  in  question  the  sincerity  or 
earnestness  of  those  who  had  signed  the  petition.  The  thing  to 
do  was  to  find  out  whether  the  sentiment  of  the  students  as  a 


COMPULSORY  PRAYERS  465 

whole  was  averse  to  compulsory  prayers,  and  then  to  trust  and 
to  honor  their  feeling  in  the  matter  as  having  some  positive 
significance. 

In  February,  1886,  the  students  renewed  their  petition.  In 
May  the  first  Board  of  Chaplains  was  appointed,  and  in  June 
Phillips  Brooks,  in  his  place  as  one  of  the  Board  of  Overseers, 
stood  up  and  advocated  the  abolition  of  compulsory  attendance 
on  prayers,  declaring  further  his  unwillingness  to  officiate  as  a 
chaplain  of  the  College  unless  the  change  were  conceded.  He 
did  not  argue  for  the  change  as  a  concession  merely  to  the  ex- 
pressed wishes  of  the  students,  but  as  in  itself  the  ideal  arrange- 
ment, to  be  adopted  because  of  its  inherent  fitness.  There  was 
surprise  at  the  reversal  of  his  attitude.  But  his  influence  was 
great ;  he  was  willing  to  take  the  responsibility ;  it  could  not  hurt 
the  College  if  it  was  known  that  he  approved  the  change,  and  his 
name  would  be  a  guarantee  of  the  success  of  the  voluntary  system ; 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do  after  his  bold  declaration  of  his 
faith  in  the  new  method.  In  taking  this  position  Mr.  Brooks  had 
the  support  of  the  other  chaplains  associated  with  him.  Their 
first  joint  act  after  their  appointment  was  to  recommend  that 
attendance  on  prayers  be  voluntary,  and  the  recommendation 
was  approved  by  the  Corporation  and  the  Overseers.  In  the 
fall  of  1886  the  new  arrangement  went  into  operation.  From 
this  time  he  co-operated  earnestly  with  the  Rev.  F.  G.  Peabody, 
who  had  been  elected  to  the  Plummer  professorship  and  was 
president  of  the  Board  of  Chaplains,  to  insure  the  success  of 
the  new  scheme.  He  writes  him,  "Pray  use  me  in  any  way,  at 
any  time,  and  do  not  let  even  Cambridge  quench  your  hope." 

With  Mr.  Brooks  originated  the  brief  address  of  three  minutes. 
At  the  request  of  the  students  he  said  a  few  words  before  closing 
each  service,  and  from  this  the  custom  grew  until  it  became  the 
general  rule.  It  imposed  a  harder  task  upon  the  chaplains,  but 
it  tended  to  vitalize  the  occasion,  to  prevent  it  from  becoming  a 
religious  formality. 

Two  characteristic  addresses  belong  to  this  year,  one  on 
"  Biography,"  delivered  at  Phillips  Academy,  Exeter,  and  pub- 
lished in  pamphlet  form  "at  the  request  of  many  teachers"  ;  the 
other,  entitled  "  Literature  and  Life, "  read  before  the  Chautauqua 
Assembly  at  Framingham.    In  both  addresses  the  interest  centres 


466  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

in  human  life  and  its  interpretation.  Every  one,  it  is  said,  has 
his  distinctive  word.  The  ever  recurring  word  with  Phillips 
Brooks  was  "Life"  with  its  epithets  "rich,"  "large,"  and  "full." 
The  word  appears  in  the  titles  of  many  of  his  best  known  sermons : 
the  "Symmetry  of  Life,"  the  "Withheld  Completions  of  Life,"  the 
"Battle  of  Life,"  the  "Shortness  of  Life,"  the  "Seriousness  of 
Life,"  the  " Positiveness  of  the  Divine  Life,"  the  "Liberty  of 
the  Christian  Life,"  the  "Eternal  Life,"  "New  Starts  in  Life," 
the  "Sacredness  of  Life,"  "Whole  Views  of  Life,"  the  "Law  of 
the  Spirit  of  Life." 

In  the  essay  on  "  Biography"  he  appears  as  an  omnivorous 
reader  of  biographies,;  so  that  when  he  came  to  speak  it  was 
from  the  fulness  of  knowledge  combined  with  critical  capacity  for 
estimating  the  art  of  biography: 

"I  think  that  I  would  rather  have  written  a  great  biography 
than  a  great  book  of  any  other  sort,  as  I  would  rather  have 
painted  a  great  portrait  than  any  other  kind  of  picture. 

"The  New  Testament  is  a  biography.  Make  it  a  mere  book  of 
dogmas,  and  its  vitality  is  gone.  Make  it  a  mere  book  of  laws, 
and  it  grows  hard  and  untimely.  Make  it  a  biography,  and  it  is  a 
true  book  of  life.  Make  it  the  history  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and 
the  world  holds  it  in  its  heart  forever. 

"I  believe  fully  that  the  intrinsic  life  of  any  human  being  is  so 
interesting  that  if  it  can  be  simply  and  sympathetically  put  in 
words,  it  will  be  legitimately  interesting  to  other  men.  There  is 
not  one  of  us  living  to-day  so  simple  and  monotonous  a  life  that, 
if  he  be  true  and  natural,  his  life  faithfully  written  would  not  be 
worthy  of  men's  eyes  and  hold  men's  hearts.  Not  one  of  us, 
therefore,  who,  if  he  be  true  and  pure  and  natural,  may  not, 
though  his  life  never  should  be  written,  be  interesting  and  stimu- 
lating to  his  fellow-men  in  some  small  circle  as  they  touch  his 
life. " 

He  condemns  the  statement  of  Ruskin  that ' '  the  lives  in  which 
the  public  are  interested  are  hardly  ever  worth  writing."  Nota- 
ble and  exceptional  lives  are  entitled  to  biography,  and  "  distinc- 
tion is  a  legitimate  object  of  our  interest." 

"Distinction  is  the  emphasis  put  upon  qualities  by  circum- 
stances. He  who  listens  to  the  long  music  of  human  history 
hears  the  special  stress  with  which  some  great  human  note  was 
uttered  long  ago,  ringing  down  the  ages  and  mingling  with  and 


ESSAY  ON  BIOGRAPHY  467 

enriching  the  later  music  of  modern  days.  It  is  a  perfectly  legiti- 
mate curiosity  with  which  men  ask  about  that  resonant,  far- 
reaching  life.  They  are  probably  asking  with  a  deeper  impulse 
than  they  know.  They  are  dimly  aware  that  in  that  famous, 
interesting  man  their  own  humanity — which  it  is  endlessly 
pathetic  to  see  how  men  are  always  trying  and  always  failing 
to  understand — is  felt  pulsating  at  one  of  its  most  sensitive  and 
vital  points." 

He  gives  the  highest  place  to  Boswell's  Johnson  and  Lock- 
hart's  Scott: 

"The  streets  of  London  and  the  streets  of  Edinburgh  live 
to-day  with  the  images  of  these  two  men  more  than  any  others 
of  the  millions  who  have  walked  in  them.  But  in  a  broader  way 
the  streets  of  human  nature  still  live  with  their  presence.  The 
unfading  interest  in  Dr.  Johnson  is  one  of  the  good  signs  of  Eng- 
lish character.  Men  do  not  read  his  books,  but  they  never  cease 
to  care  about  him.  It  shows  what  hold  the  best  and  broadest 
human  qualities  always  keep  on  the  heart  of  man." 

He  observes  that  there  are  some  very  great  men  who  are  un- 
suited  for  biography;  among  them  Shakespeare,  Shelley,  and 
Wordsworth.  The  lives  of  these  men  are  in  their  poetry.  The 
more  profound  and  spiritual  the  poet,  the  more  impossible  a 
biography  of  him  becomes.  And  finally  the  rule  in  reading 
biographies  should  be  to  divest  one's  self  of  the  literary  sense  as 
far  as  possible,  and  read  only  to  get  the  man.  "Then  you  may 
close  and  lose  and  forget  the  book.     The  man  is  yours  forever." 

Among  the  writings  of  Phillips  Brooks  the  essay  on  "Litera- 
ture and  Life  M1  holds  an  important  place,  valuable  in  itself  for  its 
suggestions  admirable  as  an  introduction  to  the  study  of  liter- 
ature ;  but  also  important  because  it  gives  the  method  of  his  own 
work,  revealing  the  springs  of  his  enthusiasm  and  the  sources  of 
his  power.  His  theme  is  that  "life  underlies  literature  and  is  the 
greater  thing."  "It  is  possible  to  treat  almost  any  book  so  that 
the  literary  quality  will  disappear  and  the  pulsations  of  the 
life  beneath  be  felt."  "Men  must  live  before  they  can  make 
literature." 

"Very  impressive   and    mysterious  and  beautiful   are  these 

1  These  essays,  on  "Biography"  and  on  "Literature  and  Life,"  are  in- 
cluded in  the  volume  of  his  Essays  and  Addresses. 


468  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

noble  years  in  the  life  of  a  people  or  a  man,  which  are  so  full  of 
living  that  they  had  no  time  or  thought  for  writing. 

"How  many  of  us  can  remember  it  in  our  own  lives,  the  time 
when  life  claimed  utterance  and  clumsily,  shamefacedly,  secretly, 
but  with  a  dim  sense  of  crossing  a  line  and  entering  a  new  condi- 
tion, we  wrote  something, — a  poem,  an  essay,  a  story, — some- 
thing which  gave  literary  expression  to  life." 

He  was  asking  himself  why  it  was  that  in  the  last  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century  there  seemed  to  be  a  falling  away  in  the  qual- 
ity of  high  literature.  He  thinks  that  the  relations  between  life 
and  literature  are  very  delicate  and  easily  disturbed : 

"Life  may  become  too  strong  for  literature.  There  is  a  ques- 
tion whether  it  be  not  so  to-day,  when  the  world  is  intensely  and 
vehemently  alive.  It  may  be  the  former  methods  and  standards 
are  not  sufficient  for  the  expression  of  the  growing  life,  its  new 
activities,  its  unexpected  energies,  its  feverish  problems.  If  the 
social  perplexities  of  the  age  could  be  set  forth  in  a  more  compe- 
tent literature,  catching  the  true  meaning  of  the  situation,  then 
the  pent-up  torrent  of  life  would  find  easier  vent  and  open  into 
broader,  juster,  and  more  charitable  thought.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances a  man  must  believe  in  the  future  more  than  he  rever- 
ences the  past." 

After  returning  from  his  trip  to  the  West,  Mr.  Brooks  took  up 
his  residence  at  North  Andover  for  the  summer,  where,  as  he 
writes,  ' '  there  is  peace  and  quiet  to  a  terrible  degree.  I  go  down 
to  Boston  on  Sundays  and  wake  myself  up  with  preaching  to  a 
miscellaneous  summer  congregation,  and  then  go  back  to  my 
bucolic  cares."  He  tries  to  get  his  old  friends  to  meet  together 
with  him  there,  and  "talk  over  the  universe,"  but  the  scheme 
was  not  realized.     To  Mr.  Cooper  he  writes: 

"July  3,  1886. 

"  Another  journey  is  finished  without  accident.  I  have  seen 
the  Pacific,  and  now  here  I  am,  thankful  and  peaceful  among  my 
acres  and  bucolic  cares  at  North  Andover.  The  grass  is  to  be 
sold  this  afternoon  at  public  auction  out  behind  the  barn,  and 
that  makes  me  a  little  anxious  and  restless  this  morning.  Ex- 
cept for  that,  I  am  very  well  and  happy,  and  hope  these  few 
lines  will  find  you  the  same. 

"And  you  are  coming  week  after  next!  I  am  sure  you  will 
not  pass  me  by,  but  will  look  in  and  see  my  farming.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  world  to  do.     You  shall  not  be  bothered  to  go  and 


NORTH  ANDOVER  469 

see  the  cattle,  for  there  are  none ;  nor  the  kitchen  garden,  for  there 
is  n't  any;  nor  even  the  chickens,  for  there  is  only  one  poor  lone 
rooster,  which  the  man  who  kept  the  place  last  winter  could  n't 
catch,  but  left  behind  him  when  he  went  away.  No,  you  shall 
sit  on  the  piazza  and  smoke,  and  sit  in  the  study  and  smoke,  and 
sit  under  the  trees  and  smoke,  and  we  will  talk  Pennsylvania 
and  California,  and  you  shall  tell  me  all  about  the  queer,  queer 
things  which  have  gone  on  in  Philadelphia  since  the  first  of  May." 

His  recreation  at  North  Andover  was  in  driving  a  quiet  horse 
through  Boxford  and  adjacent  towns,  when  he  dressed  in  a  most 
unclerical  garb  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it  as  if  it  were  the  proper 
thing  to  enjoy.  But  in  his  manner  he  had  grown  more  quiet  and 
subdued.  In  the  course  of  these  excursions  he  came  to  the  ancient 
town  of  Rowley,  where  the  first  Samuel  Phillips,  son  of  the  George 
Phillips  who  was  the  founder  of  the  family,  had  spent  his  long 
life.  A  call  at  the  parsonage  for  the  minister,  who  could  have 
told  him  much  that  he  wanted  to  know,  was  fruitless ;  for  in  the 
quiet  of  those  summer  afternoons,  peaceful  like  a  continuous 
Sabbath,  the  minister  had  the  custom  of  retiring  to  the  prophet's 
chamber  on  the  wall,  and  was  fast  asleep  while  his  distinguished 
visitor  was  knocking  at  the  door.  But  there  was  a  monument  to 
be  seen,  erected  to  the  memory  of  this  distant  ancestor.  The 
only  relic  which  survived  of  him  in  the  town  was  a  fragment  of  a 
sermon  on  the  "sin  of  wearing  long  hair."  But  there  were  tra- 
ditions to  the  effect  that  "he  combined  culture  of  mind,  tender- 
ness and  sympathy  of  heart,  and  well-balanced  Christian  living." 

In  the  retirement  of  North  Andover  Mr.  Brooks  was  thinking 
much  of  Richardson,  whose  death  had  moved  him  deeply.  He 
speaks  of  him  in  a  letter:  "Richardson  is  off  alone  on  his  long 
journey.  I  wonder  how  long  it  is."  In  an  article  for  the  Har- 
vard Monthly  (October,  1886),  he  paid  a  tribute  to  his  character 
and  genius.  The  qualities  he  discerned  and  selected  for  praise 
are  those  which  the  two  men  held  in  common,  and  which  served 
to  draw  them  together, — the  instinctive  and  spontaneous  char- 
acter of  his  genius,  expressing  great  ideas,  based  upon  thorough 
study,  and  yet  of  which  he  could  give  no  account  as  to  how  they 
came  to  him ;  he  was  "not  a  man  of  theories,"  but  "his  life  passed 
into  his  buildings  by  ways  too  subtle  even  for  himself  to  under- 
stand."    "  He  grew  simpler  as  he  grew  older."     "  Whoever  came 


470  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

in  contact  with  his  work  felt  that  the  wind  blew  out  of  an  ele- 
mental simplicity,  out  of  the  primitive  life  and  qualities  of  man." 

"The  loss  which  his  death  brought  to  his  friends  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  describe.  It  is  a  change  in  all  their  life.  When  some  men 
die  it  is  as  if  you  had  lost  your  penknife,  and  were  subject  to  per- 
petual inconvenience  until  you  could  get  another.  Other  men's 
going  is  like  the  vanishing  of  a  great  mountain  from  the  land- 
scape, and  the  outlook  of  life  is  changed  forever. 

"His  life  was  like  a  great  picture  full  of  glowing  color.  The 
canvas  on  which  it  was  painted  was  immense.  It  lighted  all  the 
room  in  which  it  hung.  It  warmed  the  chilliest  air.  It  made, 
and  it  will  long  make,  life  broader,  work  easier,  and  simple 
strength  and  courage  dearer  to  many  men." 

Mr.  Brooks  was  occupied  during  the  summer  with  the  prepa- 
ration for  the  press  of  his  fourth  volume  of  sermons,  which 
appeared  in  the  fall  with  the  title  Twenty  Sermons,  and  was  dedi- 
cated to  the  memory  of  his  brother  Frederick.  The  book  has  a 
distinct  character  from  his  other  volumes  of  sermons,  and  reflects 
the  tone  of  his  later  preaching.  This  is  apparent  in  the  ser- 
mon on  "The  Man  with  Two  Talents,"  where  his  object  was  to 
show  how  the  average  man  may  become  great  and  almost  infi- 
nitely multiply  his  gifts  by  living  in  the  consciousness  of  God. 
The  power  of  the  God-consciousness  is  also  brought  out  in  one  of 
its  most  profound  and  far-reaching  aspects  in  the  sermon  on 
"Standing  before  God,"  where  he  meets  the  difficulty  which  the 
mind  encounters  in  thinking  of  immortality,  because  of  the 
countless  millions  of  human  souls  who  have  lived  or  are  yet  to 
live  on  the  earth,  till  the  insignificance  of  any  one  soul  in  the 
infinite  throng  overcomes  the  conviction  of  its  priceless  value. 
"The  Knowledge  of  God"  is  the  title  of  another  sermon,  where 
he  makes  his  plea  against  what  is  called  agnosticism.  His  chief 
argument  is  built  upon  the  fact  of  Christ's  unconquerable  con- 
viction as  in  the  words,  "As  the  Father  knoweth  me,  even  so 
know  I  the  Father" : 

"Surely  it  must  forever  stand  as  a  most  impressive  and  signifi- 
cant fact,  a  fact  that  no  man  who  is  trying  to  estimate  the  worth 
and  strength  of  spiritual  things  can  leave  out  of  his  account,  that 
the  noblest  and  most  perfect  spiritual  being  whom  this  world 
has  ever  seen,  the  being  whom  the  world  with  most  amazing 


THE  CHURCH  AND  HUMANITY     47* 

unanimity  owns  for  its  spiritual  pattern  and  leader,  was  sure  of 
God.  I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  immense,  the  literally  unmeasurable, 
meaning  and  value  of  that  fact." 

There  are  sermons  here  which  are  the  outcome  of  that  con- 
sciousness of  humanity  in  which  he  lived.  The  sense  of  sin, 
the  evil  in  life,  the  conception  of  life  as  a  tragic  struggle  between 
hostile  forces  where  God  and  man  seem  to  be  arrayed  against  each 
other,  the  mystery  of  the  conflict  and  its  appalling  proportions, — 
these  things  are  brought  out  in  sermons  revealing  the  preacher's 
power.  In  a  sermon  entitled  "Destruction  and  Fulfilment"  he 
traces  the  beneficent  evidence  of  human  progress.  When  we 
read  the  sermon  on  "  Going  up  to  Jerusalem,"  it  seems  to  have  a 
prophetic  character,  as  though  the  preacher,  in  urging  upon  his 
hearers  to  gain  some  clearer  perception  of  the  appointed  result 
toward  which  the  steady  tendency  of  their  lives  was  growing,  was 
thinking  and  speaking  of  himself.  Life  was  changing  for  him 
now  to  its  last  appointed  phase.  From  this  time  his  own  face 
was  set,  like  that  of  the  Master  before  him,  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem ; 
and  when  friends  remonstrated  and  would  fain  hold  him  back, 
he  went  steadily  forward,  and  as  they  looked  after  him  in  his 
stride  toward  the  end,  they  were  amazed.  "Do  not  pray  for 
easy  lives.  Do  not  pray  for  tasks  equal  to  your  powers.  Pray 
for  powers  equal  to  your  tasks.  If  the  life  which  you  have  chosen 
to  be  your  life  is  really  worthy  of  you,  it  involves  self-sacrifice 
and  pain.  If  your  Jerusalem  really  is  your  sacred  city,  there  is 
certainly  a  cross  in  it.  Ask  God  to  fill  you  with  Himself,  and 
then  calmly  look  up  and  go  on.  Go  up  to  Jerusalem  expecting 
all  things  that  are  written  concerning  you  to  be  fulfilled.  Disap- 
pointment, mortification,  misconception,  enmity,  pain,  death — 
these  may  come  to  you,  but  if  they  come  to  you  in  doing  your 
duty  it  is  all  right." 

There  is  one  other  sermon  in  this  volume  to  which  a  special 
importance  attaches.  Its  subject  is  the  "Church  of  the  Living 
God."  It  was  preached  in  1885,  on  the  third  Sunday  in  Advent, 
when  it  was  the  custom  at  Trinity  Church  to  take  up  the  annual 
collection  for  domestic  missions.  In  this  sermon  Mr.  Brooks 
defined  his  position  on  the  questions  then  agitating  the  Episcopal 
Church.  In  the  first  part  of  the  sermon  he  gives  his  definition 
of  the  Church  Universal : 


472  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"The  Christian  Church  is  the  body  of  redeemed  humanity.  It 
is  man  in  his  deepest  interests,  in  his  spiritual  possibilities.  It  is 
the  under  life,  the  sacred,  the  profounder  life  of  man,  his  regenera- 
tion. Every  human  being  in  very  virtue  of  birth  into  the  re- 
deemed world  is  a  potential  member  of  the  Christian  Church. 
His  baptism  claims  and  asserts  his  membership.  .  .  . 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  my  dear  friends,  how  strongly  this  view 
takes  possession  of  me  the  longer  that  I  live.  I  cannot  think, 
I  will  not  think,  about  the  Christian  Church  as  if  it  were  a  selec- 
tion out  of  humanity.     In  its  idea  it  is  humanity." 

He  defends  the  custom  of  baptizing  the  dying  child,  which 
sometimes  has  seemed  like  the  "blankest  superstition."  "Will 
the  ceremonv  do  any  good?"  "Will  the  child  be  any  better  for 
this  hurried  incantation?  "     He  answers: 

"Baptism  is  the  solemn,  grateful,  tender  recognition  of  that 
infant's  life  on  earth,  of  the  deep  meaning  of  his  humanity.  It 
is  the  human  race  in  its  profoundest  self-consciousness  welcoming 
this  new  member  to  its  multitude.  Only  for  a  few  moments  does 
he  tarry  in  this  condition  of  humanity.  His  life  touches  the 
earth  only  to  leave  it;  but  in  those  few  moments  of  his  tarrying, 
humanity  lifts  up  its  hand  and  claims  it,  .  .  .  appropriates  for 
it  that  redemption  of  Christ  which  revealed  man's  belonging  to 
God,  declares  it  a  member  of  that  Church  which  is  simply  hu- 
manity belonging  to  God,  the  divine  conception  of  humanity,  her 
own  realization  of  herself  as  it  belongs  to  God." 

He  exclaims  what  a  world  this  would  be  if  only  baptism  were 
universal,  with  this  understanding  of  its  significance.  He  turns 
to  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  "as  the  rally ing-pl ace  for 
all  the  good  activity  and  worthy  hopes  of  man.  It  is  in  the  power 
of  this  great  Christian  sacrament,  this  great  human  sacrament, 
to  become  that  rallying-place."  It  would  be  the  evidence  of  the 
world's  transformation  if  to  this  great  "sacrament  of  man"  all 
classes  of  people — the  mystic,  the  seeker  after  truth,  the  soldier,  the 
student,  the  schoolboy,  the  legislator,  the  inventor,  men,  women, 
and  children — were  to  come,  meeting  in  a  great  host  at  the  table 
of  the  Lord,  owning  themselves  His  children,  claiming  for  them- 
selves His  strength,  and  thence  go  forth  to  their  work.  "The 
communion  service  would  lift  up  its  voice  and  sing  itself  in  tri- 
umph, the  great  anthem  of  dedicated  human  life." 

He  speaks  next  of  the  Christian  ministry.     The  old  sacerdotal 


THE  CHURCH  AND  HUMANITY    473 

idea  has  not  died  away.  Sometimes  it  is  distinctly  proclaimed 
and  taught.  But  the  remedy  does  not  lie  in  denying  the  priest- 
hood of  the  clergy,  but  in  asserting  the  priesthood  of  all  men: 

"We  can  have  no  hope,  I  believe,  of  the  destruction  of  the 
spirit  of  hierarchy  by  direct  attack.  It  may  be  smitten  down 
a  thousand  times.  A  thousand  times  it  will  rise  again.  Only 
when  all  men  become  full  of  the  sense  of  the  sacredness  of  their 
own  life  will  the  assumption  of  supreme  clerical  sacredness  find 
itself  overwhelmed  with  the  great  rising  tide." 

The  doctrine  of  the  Church  is  not  an  end  in  itself  but  a  means 
to  a  greater  end.  It  is  because  life  has  been  undervalued  that 
dogma  has  been  magnified  overmuch. 

"The  decrying  of  dogma  in  the  interest  of  life,  of  creed  in  the 
interest  of  conduct,  is  very  natural,  but  very  superficial.  It  is 
superficial  because,  if  it  succeeded,  it  would  make  life  and  conduct 
blind  and  weak.  But  it  is  natural  because  it  is  the  crude,  healthy 
outburst  of  human  protest  against  the  value  of  dogma  for  its  own 
sake,  of  which  the  Church  has  always  been  too  full.  Let  us  not 
join  in  it.  ...  I  will  not  hear  men  claim  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  has  no  help  or  inspiration  to  give  to  the  merchant  or  the 
statesman;  that  it  means  nothing  to  the  scholar  or  the  bricklayer 
whether  he  believes  or  disbelieves  in  the  Atonement. 

"I  must  summon  all  life  to  look  up  to  the  hills,  .  .  .  and  so 
make  it  cry  out  to  the  truths  of  the  Trinity  and  the  Atonement 
to  open  the  depths  of  their  helpfulness,  as  they  have  never  heard 
the  call  to  open  them  when  only  theologians  were  calling  on  them 
to  complete  their  theologic  systems.  In  the  assertion  of  the  great 
human  Church  is  the  true  adjustment  of  the  relations  of  Doctrine 
and  Life." 

This  large  human  idea  of  the  Church  is  a  vision  which  yet  lacks 
fulfilment.  The  Church  and  the  world  are  now  in  conflict,  and 
those  who  are  in  the  Church  must  keep  watchful  guard,  and  dread 
and  oppose  the  evil  influence  of  the  world.  But  it  is  unnatural. 
We  must  never  lose  sight  of  the  vision, — the  real  Church  and  the 
real  world  struggling  each  into  perfection  for  itself  and  so  both 
into  unity  and  identity  with  each  other.  As  the  history  of  the 
Church  passes  in  review,  there  is  encouragement :  "Very  inter- 
esting have  been  in  history  the  pulsations,  the  brightening  and 
fading,  the  coming  and  going,  of  this  great  truth  of  the  Church 


474  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

and  the  world,  really  identical."     He  speaks  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  and  of  its  relation  to  the  church  universal: 

"We  value  and  love  our  Communion  very  deeply.  To  many 
of  us  she  has  been  the  nurse,  almost  the  mother  of  our  spiritual 
life.  To  all  of  us  she  is  endeared  by  long  companionship,  and 
by  familiar  sympathy  in  the  profoundest  experiences  through 
which  our  souls  have  passed.  When  we  deliberately  turn  our 
backs  for  a  moment  upon  all  these  rich  and  sweet  associations 
and  ask  ourselves  in  colder  and  more  deliberate  consideration  why 
it  is  that  we  believe  in  our  Episcopal  Church  and  rejoice  to 
commend  her  to  our  fellow-countrymen  and  fellow-men,  the 
answer  which  I  find  myself  giving  is  that  our  Church  seems  to  me 
to  be  truly  trying  to  realize  this  relation  to  the  whole  world, 
this  sacredness  of  all  life,  this  ideal  belonging  of  all  men  to  the 
Church  of  Christ,  which,  as  I  have  been  saying,  is  the  great  truth 
of  active  Christianity.  I  find  the  signs  of  such  an  effort  in  the 
very  things  for  which  some  people  fear  or  blame  our  Church. 
I  find  it  in  the  importance  which  she  gives  to  Baptism  and  in 
the  breadth  of  her  conception  of  that  rite;  for  Baptism  is  the 
strongest  visible  assertion  of  this  truth.  I  find  it  in  her  sim- 
plicity of  doctrine.  I  find  it  in  the  value  which  she  sets  on 
worship;  her  constant  summons  to  all  men  not  merely  to  be 
preached  to,  but  to  pray;  her  firm  belief  in  the  ability  and  right 
of  all  men  to  offer  prayer  to  God.  I  find  it  in  her  strong  historic 
spirit,  her  sense  of  union  with  the  ages  which  have  passed  out  of 
sight,  and  of  whose  men  we  know  only  their  absolute  humanity." 

But  he  makes  a  protest  against  those  who  are  claiming  for 
the  Episcopal  Church  the  exclusive  title  of  "The  American 
Church."  That  is  a  name  to  which  she  has  no  right,  but  rather 
it  belongs  to  the  total  body  of  Christianity  in  America,  under 
many  divisions  and  different  names,  broken,  discordant,  dis- 
jointed, often  quarrelsome,  and  disgracefully  jealous,  yet  still 
bearing  witness  to  the  love  of  God,  the  redemption  of  Christ, 
and  the  sacred  possibilities  of  man: 

"If  our  Church  does  especial  work  in  our  country,  it  must  be 
by  the  especial  and  peculiar  way  in  which  she  bears  that  witness ; 
not  by  any  fiction  of  an  apostolic  succession  in  her  ministry  which 
gives  to  them  alone  a  right  to  bear  such  witness.  There  is  no 
such  peculiar  privilege  of  commission  belonging  to  her  or  to  any 
other  human  body." 

He  fears  that  the  historic  feeling  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  while 


GENERAL  CONVENTION  475 

it  makes  part  of  the  strength  of  the  Church,  may  also  constitute 
its  weakness.  It  may- be  tempted  "to  treasure  overmuch  its 
association  with  the  great  Church  of  another  land,  the  Church  of 
England,"  importing  customs  and  costumes,  names  and  ways, 
and  so  become  "what  she  has  been  in  part  of  her  history,  what 
she  is  in  many  parts  of  the  land  to-day,  an  exotic,  and  not  a  true 
part  of  the  nation's  life."  "  The  true  apostolical  succession  .  .  . 
she  must  not  boast  that  she  has,  but  she  must  struggle  more  and 
more  earnestly  to  win." 

With  thoughts  like  these  in  his  mind — they  had  been  in  his  mind 
from  the  beginning  of  his  ministry — Dr.  Brooks  went  as  a  dele- 
gate from  Massachusetts  to  the  General  Convention  of  the  Episco- 
pal Church  which  met  in  Chicago  in  October,  18S6.  This  conven- 
tion is  remembered  as  having  set  forth  the  "  Quadrilateral," — the 
terms  on  which  the  Episcopal  Church  would  consider  the  ques- 
tion of  Church  unity.  Dr.  Brooks  had  been  a  member  of  the 
General  Convention  since  1880,  but  had  not  hitherto  taken  any 
important  part  in  its  discussions.  At  the  session  of  1886  he 
made  himself  heard  upon  various  questions  in  debate.  He  of- 
fered the  following  resolution: 

"Resolved,  That  the  General  Convention  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  sends  cordial  greetings  to  the  assembly  of  the 
Congregational  Church  now  in  session  in  this  city,  and  expresses 
its  devout  hope  that  our  deliberations,  though  separately  con- 
ducted, may  minister  together  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  ad- 
vancement of  our  common  Christianity." 

In  supporting  this  resolution  he  spoke  of  the  Congregationalists 
as  representing  "a  large  body  of  workers  in  the  cause  of  Chris- 
tianity alongside  of  us,  who  sometimes  seem  to  me  unnecessarily 
separated  from  us."  The  motion  commended  itself  to  the  House 
of  Deputies  and  was  unanimously  passed,  with  this  amendment : 
"And  we  assure  them  that  we  earnestly  pray  for  such  real  unity 
as  is  according  to  God's  will  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

The  Convention  of  1886  is  remembered  for  the  effort  to 
change  the  name  of  the  Church  by  dropping  from  its  title  the 
words  "Protestant  Episcopal."  Various  names  were  proposed 
as  substitutes,  such  as  "The  Catholic  Church,"  "The  American 
Church,"  or  "The  Church  in  the  United  States  of  America." 


476  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

In  his  speech  against  the  proposed  change  Mr.  Brooks  urged  the 
fitness  of  the  existing  name  "Protestant  Episcopal"  as  dis- 
criminating the  church  from  the  Roman  Catholic  on  the  one 
hand,  and  from  Protestant  churches  which  had  not  retained 
episcopacy.  The  name  answered  its  true  purpose.  Such  names 
as  "American"  or  "Catholic"  implied  an  assumption  which  was 
not  true, — that  this  church  was  one  of  such  large  prominence, 
so  largely  representative  of  the  Christianity  of  America,  that 
all  other  denominations  are  practically  insignificant.  Until 
the  Church  identified  itself  more  fully  with  the  spirit  of  American 
institutions  and  ceased  to  support  its  claim  by  its  relation  to  the 
Church  of  England,  it  was  not  entitled  to  be  known  as  the  Amer- 
ican Church.  But  if  this  ground  were  untenable,  upon  what 
other  ground  could  the  Church  take  its  stand  as  the  American 
Church? 

"It  must  stand  before  the  country  with  the  distinctive  asser- 
tion of  apostolical  succession  as  the  very  substance  and  essence 
and  life  of  the  Church.  Now  there  are  those  who  believe  the 
apostolic  succession  to  be  the  essence  and  substance  of  the 
Church.  There  is  no  doubt  about  that.  The  position  which 
they  take  in  regard  to  the  Church  is  absolutely  clear.  That 
there  are  other  men  in  our  Church  who  believe  nothing  of  the 
kind,  there  is  no  doubt.  I,  for  one,  and  I  think  that  I  am  speaking 
for  multitudes  in  this  congregation  this  morning,  do  not  believe 
in  the  doctrine  of  apostolic  succession  in  any  such  sense  as  many 
receive  it.  I  do  not  believe  in  the  exclusive  prerogative  which 
gives  to  the  Church  which  receives  it  any  such  absolute  right  of 
Christian  faith.  That  is  not  the  question  before  us;  but  there 
is  no  conceivable  explanation  of  the  desire  to  change  the  name  of 
the  Church  except  the  distinct  adoption  of  that  theory  as  the 
absolute  condition  on  which  it  lives.  We  have  been  told,  sir, 
with  great  rhetorical  flourish,  that  this  Church,  when  it  shall 
have  taken  its  new  name,  is  going  to  extend  its  area  and  take  in 
all  Christianity.  I  appeal  to  any  reasoning  man,  whether,  in 
any  sense,  this  is  to  be  considered  an  expansion  of  the  power  of 
the  Church.  It  immediately  dooms  it.  It  dooms  it  to  live  in 
the  corner  and  minister  to  men  who  are  convinced  of  a  certain 
theory  with  regard  to  the  possession  of  the  privileges  of  the 
Christian  ministry.  The  passage  of  such  a  resolution  as  should 
fasten  upon  this  Church  the  explicit  title  of  the  American  Catho- 
lic Church  dooms  it  to  become  distinctively  the  Church  of  those 
men  who  accept  the  theory  which  is  based  upon  mere  historical 
argument.     Is  that  going  to  be  the  Church  of  America?     Is  that 


THE  NAME  OF  THE  CHURCH      477 

going  to  be  the  Church  for  praying  people?     Is  that  the  Church 
which  is  going  to  do  a  work  worthy  of  the  Church  of  Christ?  " 

On  October  31,  the  first  Sunday  after  his  return  to  Boston, 
Dr.  Brooks  gave  to  his  congregation  an  account  of  the  Conven- 
tion, and  then  denounced  in  vigorous  language  the  attempt  to 
change  the  name  of  the  Church.  The  sermon  created  a  popular 
sensation  throughout  the  land.  It  was  extemporaneous,  but 
from  the  reports  in  the  papers  its  drift  may  be  gathered : 

"He  began  by  tracing  the  growing  belief  in  the  theory  of 
apostolical  succession,  since  the  time  of  the  Oxford  Movement  in 
1833,  till  at  last  those  who  held  the  theory  proposed  to  make  it 
the  cardinal  feature  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  the  warrant 
for  changing  its  name.  The  name  proposed  as  its  substitute, 
which  seemed  most  acceptable  to  those  desiring  the  change,  was 
"The  American  Church."  Upon  this  name  he  commented  to 
the  effect  that  its  adoption  could  only  be  justified  on  the  ground 
that  the  Episcopal  Church,  even  though  one  of  the  smaller 
Christian  bodies,  had  a  distinct  and  absolute  right,  through  a 
divine  commission  from  Christ  and  the  Apostles  not  possessed  by 
other  churches,  and  entitling  her,  therefore,  to  claim  for  herself, 
and  to  be  known  as,  the  only  true  apostolic,  catholic  church  in 
America.  There  was  not  a  line  in  the  Prayer  Book  which  declares 
any  such  theory.  It  was  simply  a  theory  held  by  individuals, 
a  theory  which  many  both  of  the  clergy  and  laity  did  not  believe. 
He  avowed  for  himself  that  he  rejected  the  theory  and  would  not 
consent  to  it  for  a  single  day.  If  this  movement  in  behalf  of  a 
change  of  name  were  not  checked,  and  the  change  were  accom- 
plished, he  did  not  see  how  he  or  any  one  who  did  not  believe 
in  apostolical  succession,  could  remain  in  the  Episcopal  Church. 
He  was  despondent  as  he  considered  that  the  proposition  to 
change  the  name  was  defeated  by  what  seemed  a  small  majority ; 
but  there  was  hope  in  the  circumstance  that  the  laity  were  more 
numerously  opposed  to  it  than  the  clergy;  unless  the  feeling  and 
intentions  of  the  laity  should  be  asserted  more  strongly  in  the 
next  few  years,  he  feared  the  change  would  be  accomplished, 
and  the  Episcopal  Church  be  doomed  in  consequence  to  become 
a  small  fantastic  sect."  1 

«  In  taking  this  attitude  Phillips  Brooks  felt  that  he  was  not  alone;  that 
he  was  supported  by  eminent  scholars :  Dr.  Arnold  of  Rugby,  Bishop  Light- 
foot  of  Durham,  Dr.  Hatch  of  Oxford,  in  studies  of  early  organization. 
Such  had  been  the  attitude  of  the  Reformers  in  the  English  Church  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  In  the  American  Episcopal  Church  there  had  been 
many  bishops  and  clergy,  from  the  time  of  Bishop  White,  who  held  the 


478  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Having  freed  his  mind  on  the  subject  Dr.  Brooks  refused  to 
be  drawn  into  controversy.  He  became  the  target  for  criticism, 
but,  although  the  usual  expositions  were  offered  of  the  falsity 
of  his  position,  he  kept  silence.  He  was  familiar  enough  with 
the  subject.  He  knew  that  the  best  scholarship  in  the  Anglican 
Church  and  the  best  traditions  in  its  history, — the  traditions  in 
this  country  as  well,  did  not  attach  to  the  theory  of  Apostolic 
succession  any  such  exclusive  import.  But  he  was  annoyed  by 
the  way  in  which  publicity  had  been  given  to  his  remarks.  "A 
man,"  he  said,  "may  go  on  all  his  life  preaching  the  gospel  and 
no  one  takes  any  notice  of  it,  but  when  he  speaks  of  some  matter 
of  church  administration,  he  is  treated  as  if  he  had  made  some 
marvellous  discovery."  Yet  there  was  justification  for  the  popu- 
lar interest  aroused  by  this  sermon.  How  it  impressed  the  con- 
gregation listening  to  him  is  evident  from  testimony  of  one  who 
was  present: 

"It  was  the  most  thrilling,  dramatic  thing  I  ever  heard.  He 
was  intensely  stirred,  and  the  stillness  as  people  listened  was 
painful.  By  and  by  the  sound  of  sobs  was  heard  in  different 
parts  of  the  church ;  the  excitement  was  so  great  that  tears  came 
to  relieve  the  tension." 

For  a  long  time  Phillips  Brooks  continued  to  hear  the  echoes 
of  his  utterance.  The  letters  began  to  come  at  once  from  every 
part  of  the  country  and  from  England,  most  of  them  thanking 
him  for  his  sermon.  There  was  a  tone  of  excitement  in  them, 
or  exhilarated  gratitude.  Many  of  the  letters  came  from  persons 
of  distinction  or  of  social  position,  but  they  came  also  from  humble 
women  and  inquiring  students,  who  thanked  him  for  his  words. 
It  was  the  laity  who  were  chiefly  moved  to  thankfulness.  It  is 
not  without  its  pathos  and  its  deeper  meaning  that  many  who 
wrote  him  belonged  to  other  denominations.  Some  of  the 
letters  were  efforts  to  console  and  reassure  him,  expressing  the 

same  view,  valuing  episcopacy,  regarding  it  as  having  apostolic  sanction, 
yet  as  not  essential  to  the  existence  of  the  Church.  Of  some  of  these  the 
lives  have  been  written  and  their  opinions  placed  on  record  :  Bishop 
Griswold  of  Massachusetts,  Bishop  Mcllvaine  of  Ohio,  Bishop  Meade  of 
Virginia.  Among  them  was  his  teacher  in  Virginia,  Dr.  Sparrow,  with 
whose  utterances  on  the  subject  he  was  in  sympathy.  Cf.  Life  and 
Correspondence  of  William  Sparrow,  by  Walker,  pp.  155,  195. 


THE  NAME  OF  THE  CHURCH       479 

conviction  that  the  change  he  feared  would  never  be  made,  that 
any  renewed  attempt  would  never  again  come  so  near  passing, 
that  the  laity  of  the  Church  were  overwhelmingly  of  his  way  of 
thinking. 

There  were  also  letters  of  another  kind,  some  of  them  anony- 
mous, asking  him  to  confine  his  attention  to  preaching  the  gos- 
pel and  let  the  Church  alone;  he  was  renewing  old  controversies 
which  would  otherwise  die  out,  and  embittering  party  spirit. 
His  attention  was  called  to  parts  of  the  Prayer  Book,  which  in 
his  ignorance  he  had  overlooked.  An  aged  clergyman,  who, 
with  his  wife,  had  found  comfort  and  inspiration  from  his  ser- 
mons, wrote  to  him  in  distress  because  of  a  report  that  he  had 
become  an  "apostate,"  had  "denied  the  truth  of  the  Trinity, 
of  the  Incarnation,  and  of  Apostolic  Succession,  and  was  about 
to  leave  the  Church  for  Unitarianism."  Others  still  thought  it 
was  not  too  late  to  labor  with  him,  and  to  give  him  some  light 
on  the  origin  of  the  Christian  ministry. 

From  the  letters  written  by  those  belonging  to  other  denomina- 
tions it  was  evident  it  had  not  been  without  sorrow  that  they 
had  seen  the  Episcopal  Church  withdrawing  from  the  fellowship 
of  the  other  Protestant  churches,  and  erecting  an  impassable  bar- 
rier between  them  by  the  theory  of  apostolic  succession.  This 
letter  from  the  president  of  a  New  England  college  represents  this 
feeling : 

"I  cannot  refrain,  after  reading  the  report  in  yesterday's  Trib- 
une of  the  sermon  on  Sunday  last,  from  expressing  to  you  my 
gratitude  at  your  frank  repudiation  of  a  doctrine  which  has  been 
a  great  hindrance  to  the  advance  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  and,  as  I  believe,  to  the  progress  of  the  kingdom  of 
God  in  America. 

"Thousands  who  have  read  your  words  hitherto  with  the  deep- 
est interest  will  henceforth  feel  towards  you  a  loving  loyalty  that 
knows  no  limit.  Not  that  before  I  have  really  believed  that  you 
held  such  a  doctrine  as  that  there  are  no  other  ministers  of  Christ 
but  those  in  the  supposed  direct  apostolic  descent,  but  the  frank 
rejection  of  this  belief,  and  the  loving  brotherhood  expressed 
by  you  for  others,  will  certainly  give  the  deepest  joy  to  a  great 
many." 

The  disturbance  which  this  controversy  caused  to  Mr.  Brooks 
did  not  at  once  subside.     In  proportion  to  the  depth  and  intensity 


480  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  his  feeling  was  the  inward  revolt  through  which  he  was  passing. 
Meantime  it  was  fortunate  that,  immediately  after  his  return 
from  the  Convention,  it  fell  to  him  to  take  up  his  work  at  Harvard, 
where  his  association  with  the  young  life  brought  its  healing  balm 
to  a  spirit  that  had  been  wounded.  He  was  also  anticipating  the 
great  event  at  Cambridge  when  Harvard  University  was  to  com- 
memorate its  two  hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary.  The  festi- 
val began  on  the  5th  of  November  and  lasted  four  days.  Visitors 
came  from  foreign  universities  bearing  congratulations.  The 
President  of  the  United  States,  Grover  Cleveland,  was  present 
on  Alumni  Day,  when  James  Russell  Lowell  was  the  orator,  and 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  read  the  poem,  and  the  honorary  degrees 
were  conferred. 

One  day,  Sunday,  the  7th  of  November,  was  consecrated  to 
religion,  when  alumni  of  the  college  who  were  in  the  ministry  had 
been  requested  to  recall  in  their  respective  places  the  history  of 
Harvard.  The  sermon  in  the  morning  was  preached  by  Professor 
Francis  G.  Peabody,  at  Appleton  Chapel,  and  in  the  evening  came 
the  sermon  by  Phillips  Brooks.  His  subject  had  been  assigned 
him, — the  religious  history  of  Harvard.  He  took  for  his  text 
the  words  of  St.  Paul,  "Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  forever."  The  changes  through  which  the  College  had  passed 
he  refused  to  look  upon  in  a  negative  way  as  a  mere  casting  off 
of  restraints,  but  as  so  many  successive  enlargements,  wherein 
the  partial  was  gradually  reconciling  itself  to  the  universal,  the 
temporary  fulfiling  itself  with  the  eternal.  His  brief  summary 
reviewed  the  ground  where  momentous  controversies  had  been 
waged : 

"There  was  a  discipline  of  the  Christian  Church  larger  than  the 
discipline  of  the  Puritans,  in  which  the  discipline  of  the  Puritans 
had  floated  as  the  part  floats  in  the  whole.  The  discipline  of  the 
Puritans  felt  that ;  was  pressed  on,  was  tempted  by  it,  and  at  last 
broke  open  in  the  attempt  to  find  it.  Experience  was  larger  than 
Whitfield,  dogma  was  larger  than  Calvin,  life  was  larger  than 
theology ;  and  so,  one  after  another,  in  these  which  are  the  con- 
centric spheres  within  which  human  nature  lives,  the  successive 
openings  of  the  partial  into  the  universal,  and  the  temporary  into 
the  eternal  came.  .  .  .  What  is  this  universal  and  eternal  power 
within  which  these  and  all  the  temporary  struggles  of  mankind 
are  included?  We  open  the  Sacred  Book,  we  turn  to  the  majestic 
letter  written  centuries  ago  to  members  of  the  great  sacred  nation, 


HARVARD  ANNIVERSARY  481 

and  there  we  find  our  answer,  'Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day.  and  forever.' " 

He  was  thus  led  to  ask  the  question,  What  and  who  is  Jesus 
Christ?  Theological  curiosity  was  alert  to  know  the  answer  he 
would  make.  But  he  did  not  stand  there  for  the  purpose  of  put- 
ting himself  on  record,  or  of  "bearing  witness"  as  he  has  called 
it  in  his  Lectures  on  Preaching  which  has  the  tendency  to 
weaken  the  message.  He  gave  the  conditions,  the  atmosphere, 
out  of  which  the  formula  of  the  coequality  of  the  vSon  with 
the  Father  had  originally  grown,  and  left  the  inference  to  his 
hearers : 

"And  what  and  who  is  Jesus  Christ?  In  reverence  and  humil- 
ity let  us  give  our  answer.  He  is  the  meeting  of  the  Divine  and 
Human, — the  presence  of  God  in  humanity,  the  perfection  of 
humanity  in  God;  the  divine  made  human,  the  human  shown  to 
be  capable  of  union  with  the  divine;  the  utterance,  therefore,  of 
the  nearness  and  the  love  of  God,  and  of  the  possibility  of  man. 
Once  in  the  ages  came  the  wonderous  life,  once  in  the  stretch  of 
history  the  face  of  Jesus  shone  in  Palestine,  and  His  feet  left 
their  blessed  impress  upon  earth;  but  what  that  life  made  mani- 
fest had  been  forever  true.  Its  truth  was  timeless,  the  truth  of 
all  eternity.  The  love  of  God,  the  possibility  of  man, — these 
two  which  made  the  Christhood, — these  two,  not  two  but  one, 
had  been  the  element  in  which  all  life  was  lived,  all  knowledge 
known,  all  growth  attained.  Oh,  how  little  men  have  made  it, 
and  how  great  it  is!  Around  all  life  which  ever  has  been  lived 
there  has  been  poured  forever  the  life  of  the  loving  Deity  and  the 
ideal  humanity.  All  partial  excellence,  all  learning,  all  brother- 
hood, all  hope,  has  been  bosomed  on  this  changeless,  this  un- 
changing Being  which  has  stretched  from  theforgotten  beginning  to 
the  unguessed  end.  It  is  because  God  has  been  always,  and  been 
always  good,  and  because  man  has  been  always  the  son  of  God, 
capable  in  the  very  substance  of  his  nature  of  likeness  to  and 
union  with  his  Father, — it  is  because  of  this  that  nobleness  has 
never  died,  that  truth  has  been  sought  and  found,  that  struggle 
and  hope  have  always  sprung  anew,  and  that  the  life  of  man  has 
always  reached  to  larger  and  to  larger  things. 

"This  is  the  Christian  truth  of  Christ.  'In  Him  was  life,  and 
the  life  was  the  light  of  men.'  This  is  the  truth  of  man's  re- 
demption. As  any  man  or  any  institution  feels  and  claims 
around  its  life,  as  the  element  in  which  it  is  to  live,  the  sympathy 
of  God  and  the  perfectibility  of  man,  that  man  or  institution  is 
redeemed ;  its  fetters  and  restraints  give  way ,  and  it  goes  forward 


482  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

to  whatever  growth  and  glory  it  is  in  the  line  of  its  being  to 
attain." 

On  December  15  Mr.  Brooks  took  part  in  the  commemo- 
ration of  the  two  hundredth  anniversary  of  King's  Chapel, 
making  an  address  which  was  felicitous  under  difficult  circum- 
stances. As  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  a  daughter  of  King's 
Chapel,  it  was  appropriate  that  he  should  be  present;  but  recall- 
ling  the  theological  divergence  in  consequence  of  which  King's 
Chapel  had  been  lost  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  the  occasion  called 
for  wisdom  and  moderation.  He  dwelt  on  the  civic  interests 
which  united  the  two  parishes,  on  their  common  relation  to 
American  history,  on  the  deeper  issues  which  underlay  theological 
discussion  and  religious  differences.  "The  present  condition 
of  the  religious  world  was  not  a  finality.  There  was  to  be  a 
future  for  the  Christian  Church,  bringing  richer  results  than  the 
past  had  attained.  There  were  problems  which  had  not  yet  been 
solved.  To  prepare  for  that  future,  it  was  not  needful  to  revive 
old  disputes,  but,  while  recognizing  their  earnestness,  to  strive 
for  a  deeper  consecration  to  Christ  in  personal  obedience." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  any  one  who  looks  back  on  the  past  and 
recognizes  in  history  the  great  providence  of  God  in  His  dealings 
with  men — so  much  deeper  than  men  have  begun  to  compre- 
hend— simply  wants  to  say  to  any  church,  speaking  for  his  own 
as  he  speaks  for  others:  Let  us  go  and  seek  that  Christ,  that  in- 
finite Christ,  whom  we  have  not  begun  to  know  as  we  may  know 
Him;  that  Christ  who  has  so  much  more  to  show  us  than  He 
has  shown;  that  Christ  who  can  show  himself  to  us  only  as  we 
give  ourselves  in  absolute  obedience  to  Him.  May  that  Christ 
receive  from  us,  in  each  new  period  of  our  history,  more  complete 
consecration,  more  entire  acceptance  of  Him  as  our  Master;  and 
so  may  we  receive  from  Him  rich  promises  of  new  light,  new 
manifestations  of  His  truth,  new  gifts  of  His  Spirit,  which  He 
has  promised  to  bestow  upon  those  who  consecrate  themselves  to 
Him  in  loving  obedience,  unto  the  end  of  time  and  through  all 
eternity!  If  one  may  turn  a  greeting  to  a  prayer,  may  I  not 
ask  for  you,  as  I  know  you  ask  for  all  of  our  churches,  a  more 
profound  and  absolute  spirit  of  consecration  to  our  Master, 
Christ,  that  in  Him,  and  only  in  Him,  we  may  seek  after  and 
come  to  His  ever  richer  life?" 

Among  the  books  he  was  reading  was  the  Life  of  Longfellow. 
" How  charming  it  is!     What  a  bright,  happy,  friendly  existence 


PARISH  MINISTRY  483 

he  had!"  He  commemorated  Christmas  by  going  to  a  Sunday- 
school  celebration  of  poor  children,  where  a  stereopticon  ex- 
hibition was  given,  and  commented  on  the  different  pictures. 
But  on  the  Sunday  before  Christmas  he  could  not  refrain  from 
reverting  to  the  topic  which  had  pained  him.  He  preached  a 
sermon  on  the  apostolic  commission,  from  the  text  St.  Matthew 
xxviii.,  20:  "Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world,"  and  brought  out  in  more  positive  form  the  truth  whose 
denial  seemed  to  him  to  be  fraught  with  grave  danger.  The 
sermon  was  heard  from  by  an  anonymous  letter,  reproaching 
him  for  higgling  about  a  name  and  talking  of  a  danger  which  no 
one  saw  but  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

1887. 

incidents  in  parish  life.  invitation  to  de- 
liver the  bampton  lectures.  extracts  from 
note-books.  sermon  at  faneuil  hall.  st. 
Andrew's  mission  church,  tenth  anniver- 
sary OF  THE  CONSECRATION  OF  TRINITY  CHURCH. 
SERMON  AT  ANDOVER.  SUMMER  IN  EUROPE.  ILL- 
NESS.     CORRESPONDENCE. 

The  most  important  features  in  the  life  of  Phillips  Brooks 
baffle  description.  It  defies  the  imagination  when  we  attempt 
to  reproduce  the  scene  at  Trinity  Church,  when  every  Sunday 
seemed  like  the  bridal  of  earth  and  sky.  Of  any  one  of  these 
years  the  same  story  may  be  told.  There  was  no  diminution  in 
the  power  of  the  preacher;  there  was  no  decline  in  the  people's 
interest.  What  was  true  of  the  Sundays  in  1887  was  true  of  the 
preceding  and  of  the  following  years:  "  Every  Sunday  crowds  are 
to  be  seen  packing  the  vestibules  and  the  corridors  of  Trinity  in 
vain  efforts  to  enter."  Whatever  might  be  the  subject  of  the 
sermon,  it  was  impossible  for  the  preacher  to  be  uninteresting; 
it  was  impossible  to  be  present  and  not  to  listen.  Religion  was 
invested  with  perpetual  freshness,  as  if  therein  lay  the  charm  of 
living.  One  Sunday  a  stranger  was  observed,  who,  after  the 
service  was  over,  seemed  to  be  confused,  looking  about  in  a  dis- 
tracted way.  He  was  asked  if  he  had  lost  anything.  He  re- 
plied: "I  feel  as  if  the  gods  had  come  down  again  to  the  earth. 
I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Canada  just  to  hear  him  preach, 
and  I  would  come  again."  A  person  who  went  to  Trinity  for 
the  purpose  of  studying  the  congregation  as  well  as  the  preacher 
looked  about  him  for  a  moment  to  find  every  face  upturned  to 
the  pulpit,  and  was  unable  to  cast  more  than  this  furtive  glance 

484 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER  485 

for  fear  he  would  lose  what  the  preacher  was  saying.  We  must 
not  attempt  to  describe  these  occasions,  or  even  to  enumerate 
the  sermons  still  remembered  by  those  who  heard  them.  But 
the  mind  seeks  points  on  which  to  rest,  as  in  a  picture  gallery f 
where  nothing  is  seen  if  the  attempt  is  made  to  look  at  every- 
thing. In  the  midst  of  this  distraction  a  few  incidents  are  taken 
as  types  of  the  rest. 

It  was  a  custom  of  Mr.  Brooks  through  many  years  to  speak 
of  eminent  persons  who  had  died,  whether  in  Church  or  State. 
One  of  his  favorite  hymns  was,  "Who  are  these  in  bright  array  ? " 
When  he  announced  it,  the  people  knew  that  he  had  lost  some 
friend,  or  was  about  to  commemorate  the  departure  of  some  one 
known  for  distinguished  services.  On  the  Sunday  after  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  died,  he  took  for  his  text,  "He  that  overcomsth 
shall  inherit  all  things."  Part  of  the  impressiveness  of  the 
moment  lay  in  the  feeling  that  it  was  the  greatest  of  living 
preachers  who  was  paying  his  tribute  to  the  great  preacher  who 
had  preceded  him.  This  was  in  substance  what  was  said  at  the 
close  of  the  sermon,  as  recalled  by  an  interested  listener: 

"I  know  that  you  are  all  thinking  as  I  speak  of  the  great  soul 
that  has  passed  away,  of  the  great  preacher — for  he  was  the 
greatest  preacher  in  America,  and  the  greatest  preacher  means 
'the  greatest  power  in  the  land.  To  make  a  great  preacher,  two' 
things  are  necessary,  the  love  of  truth  and  the  love  of  souls;  and 
surely  no  man  had  greater  love  of  truth  or  love  of  souls  than 
Henry  Ward  Beecher.  Great  services,  too,  did  he  render  to 
theology,  which  is  making  great  progress  now.  It  is  not  that 
we  are  discovering  new  truths,  but  that  what  lay  dead  and  dry 
in  men's  souls  has  awakened.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  has  been 
poured  into  humanity,  and  no  one  more  than  Mr.  Beecher  has 
helped  to  this,  pouring  his  great  insight  and  sympathy  and 
courage  out  upon  the  truths  which  God  gave  him  to  deliver.  A 
great  leader  in  the  theological  world,  believing  in  the  divine 
Christ  and  in  eternal  hope  for  mankind,  foremost  in  every  great 
work  and  in  all  progress,  one  of  that  noble  band  of  men  whose 
hands  clutched  the  throat  of  slavery  and  never  relaxed  their 
hold  till  the  last  shackle  fell  off;  inspiring  men  to  war,  speaking 
words  of  love  and  reconciliation  when  peace  had  come,  standing 
by  the  poor  and  oppressed,  bringing  a  slave  girl  into  his  pulpit 
and  making  his  people  pay  her  ransom.  A  true  American  like 
Webster,  a  great  preacher,  a  great  leader,  a  great  patriot,  a 
great  man. 


486  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"We  feel  sure  that  Mr.  Beecher  knew  these  Revelation  prom- 
ises. Wonderful  was  the  vitality  given  him.  Surely  he  had 
inner  communion  with  God.  Truly  was  he  a  pillar  of  the  tem- 
ple. Rejoice  in  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.  They  have 
overcome  and  shall  inherit  all  things." 

Mr.  Brooks  was  reappointed  a  preacher  to  Harvard  Univer- 
sity for  the  year  1887-88,  and  continued  to  be  reappointed 
until  1 89 1.  The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred 
upon  him  by  Columbia  University  at  its  one  hundi-edth  anni- 
versary. He  declined  a  request  from  the  editor  of  the  Contem- 
porary Review,  asking  him  to  describe  the  working  of  religion 
in  America,  about  which  the  English  mind  was  not  clear.  Any 
one  who  knew  Phillips  Brooks  must  be  interested  in  the  invita- 
tion he  received  to  meet  the  late  Mr.  Ingersoll  in  joint  debate 
on  some  question  touching  the  essentials  of  the  Christian  religion. 
To  enumerate  the  many  invitations  to  occasions  outside  of  his 
ministerial  life  is  needless,  but  among  them  may  be  mentioned 
a  speech  made  in  1887  before  the  insurance  societies,  where 
he  turned  over  the  principle  of  "safety"  in  its  relations  to  a 
man's  work  in  the  world.  He  went  to  a  meeting  of  Methodist 
ministers,  where  the  subject  of  "  Christian  Unity"  was  discussed; 
and  his  address  deepened  the  conviction  that  Christian  unity 
already  existed.  During  Lent  he  took  for  the  subject  with  his 
Bible  class  the  Apostles'  Creed.  The  course  was  one  of  great 
interest,  and  was  largely  attended.  He  treated  his  theme  in  the 
manner  of  a  systematic  theologian,  making  formal  definitions, 
stating  objections  and  meeting  them,  dealing  with  modern 
theories.  It  was  unlike  his  method  in  the  pulpit,  not  wholly 
congenial,  but  no  one  could  surpass  him  in  this  line  when  he 
chose  to  undertake  it.  The  full  analysis  for  each  lecture  is  so 
admirable  that  one  regrets  he  did  not  put  his  work  into  per- 
manent form. 

In  April  he  received  an  invitation  from  Dr.  Jowett,  of  Bal- 
liol  College,  Oxford,  to  deliver  the  Bampton  Lectures,  with  the 
assurance  that  if  he  would  comply  with  the  terms  of  candidacy, 
by  sending  in  a  schedule  of  the  lectures  he  proposed  to  give,  there 
was  no  doubt  of  his  appointment.  He  seems  to  have  considered 
the  request  for  some  time  before  he  dismissed  it,  as  is  shown  by 
his  note-book,  where  he  went  so  far  as  to  write  out  an  analysis 


FANEUIL  HALL  SERMONS         487 

for  five  of  the  lectures,  calling  his  subject  tentatively  the  "Phi- 
losophy of  Religious  Teaching."  But  he  did  not  complete  the 
schedule,  and  finally  wrote  declining  to  become  a  candidate. 

Mr.  Brooks  had  been  interested  in  the  effort  to  import  into 
the  Episcopal  Church  the  methods  known  as  evangelistic,  and 
had  given  his  sanction  to  "holding  missions."  When  an  invita- 
tion came  to  him  from  the  young  men  of  the  Trinity  Club  to 
preach  on  Sunday  evenings  at  Faneuil  Hall  to  the  unchurched 
classes,  he  welcomed  it  and  prepared  himself,  but  with  some 
fear  of  failure.  It  might  be  the  verdict  on  the  experiment  that 
he  could  preach  a  comfortable  gospel  to  those  in  easy  circum- 
stances, who  knew  nothing  of  the  darker  side  of  life,  but  could 
not  reach  the  masses  of  men.  He  was  putting  his  theology, 
his  religion,  to  the  final  test.  Before  and  after  his  sermons  he 
walked  the  streets  of  old  Boston,  for  encouragement,  and  then 
for  relief, — High  Street,  where  he  was  born,  and  Rowe  Street 
(Chauncy  Street),  where  he  had  grown  from  youth  to  manhood. 

The  first  of  these  Sunday  evening  services  at  Faneuil  Hall 
was  held  on  January  23.  It  had  been  the  task  of  the  Trinity 
Club,  of  which  Mr.  Lorin  F.  Deland  was  president,  to  help  make 
the  experiment  successful.  It  required  no  slight  effort  to  get 
access  to  the  people  at  the  North  End  in  Boston,  and  make  it 
known  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  preach;  to  have  it  under- 
stood that  the  object  in  view  was  not  a  religious  revival,  but 
simply  to  increase  the  range  of  Mr.  Brooks's  influence,  and  to 
give  those  an  opportunity  to  hear  him  who  were  unable  to 
listen  to  him  at  Trinity  Church.  The  announcement  was  alto- 
gether a  sensation;  the  experiment  was  anticipated  as  an  event 
in  the  ecclesiastical  life  of  Boston.  It  forms  an  interesting  pic- 
ture, the  association  of  Faneuil  Hall  with  the  memory  of  Phillips 
Brooks. 

The  text  of  the  sermon  was  a  verse  from  the  Psalms:  "Like 
as  a  father  pitieth  his  own  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them 
that  fear  him."  A  few  extracts  may  indicate  something  of  the 
power  infused  with  tenderness  and  love,  which  went  into  his 
appeal : 

"  When  fatherhood  is  spoken  of,  it  means  this  love  which  takes 
the  child  simply  because  it  is  the  child ;  not  because  of  what  the 
child  has  done,  or  what  the  child  is  in  its  character,  but  simply 


488  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

because  it  has  been  cradled  in  these  arms  in  its  infancy,  and  all 
the  hopes  and  affections  of  the  parent  have  gathered  around  that 
little  life. 

"  Underneath  all  the  approbation  or  disapprobation  of  God, 
is  the  great,  patient,  indestructible  love  of  God  for  us  because 
we  are  His  children,  the  wickedest  of  us  as  well  as  the  best  of  us. 
If  you  are  ever  going  to  understand  the  great  enfolding  life 
around  us,  and  to  trust  in  it  and  test  its  consolations,  its  en- 
couragements, and  its  supports,  the  first  picture  of  it  must  be 
in  your  own  house.  I  almost  hesitate  when  I  talk  to  a  multi- 
tude of  people  such  as  this,  and  ask  them  to  consider  their 
relations  with  regard  to  God  from  the  way  in  which  their  own 
families  are  living.  I  hesitate  and  draw  back  and  say,  'Do 
these  people  want  me  to  talk  to  them  in  this  way,  to  ask  them  to 
understand  that  God  is  to  them  just  exactly  what  they  are  to 
their  own  children?'  I  should  have  to  look  round  and  think 
that  I  saw  better  men  and  women  than  I  know  that  I  do  see 
here  to-night.  Where  is  the  father  who  is  willing  to  let  his 
child  draw  his  idea  of  God  from  the  way  in  which  his  fatherly 
life  is  related  to  his  child's  life? 

"I  am  struck,  and  I  am  sure  you  have  been,  by  the  way  in 
which  people  think  the  basest  moments  of  their  lives  the  real  and 
true  moments,  and  are  not  willing  to  think  of  the  grandest  mo- 
ments in  their  lives  as  the  true  ones.  The  noblest  thing  you  ever 
did,  the  noblest  emotion  you  ever  felt,  the  deepest  and  tenderest 
and  most  self-sacrificing  love  ever  in  your  soul,  that  is  your 
self  still,  through  all  the  baser  life  into  which  you  have  fallen. 

"Men  are  continually  preached  to  that  they  are  a  great  deal 
wickeder  than  they  think  they  are,  that  they  must  not  value 
themselves  so  much,  that  they  must  not  put  so  high  a  worth  on 
their  humanity.  We  want,  along  with  that,  another  kind  of 
preaching.  Men  are  nobler  than  they  think  themselves  to  be. 
There  is  in  every  man  something  greater  than  he  has  begun  to 
dream  of.  When  he  gives  himself  to  Jesus  Christ  in  consecra- 
tion, then  that  begins  to  come  forth.  Break  through  the  cross 
of  your  despair  and  ask  Christ  to  let  you  see  yourself  as  He  sees 
you,  all  stained  with  sin  but  with  the  divine  image  in  you  all  the 
time."1 

The  comments  of  those  present  indicate  that  they  had  been 
surprised  at  the  fine  congregation  of  non-churchgoers  that  had 
assembled  to  hear  Phillips  Brooks.  One  young  man,  not  in  the 
habit  of  going  to  church,  said:  "These  people — and  I  live  among 
them — have  not  been  approached  in  the  right  way,  and  been  made 

1  Cf.  The  Spiritual  Man,  and  other  Sermons,  London,  1895,  for  a  full 
report  of  the  sermon. 


FANEUIL  HALL  SERMONS  489 

to  Know  the  true  meaning  of  religion  and  its  place  in  their  lives 
and  homes.  A  preacher  like  Mr.  Brooks  will  inaugurate  a  new 
era  in  their  lives."  An  elderly  man,  who  confessed  that  he  did 
but  "little  in  wearing  out  the  carpets  in  church  aisles,"  had  gone 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing  how  Mr.  Brooks  would  take  hold  of 
workingmen  and  their  families.     This  was  his  verdict: 

"He  is  in  no  sense  a  revivalist.  He  will  not  excite  the  emotions 
of  people,  but  gives  them  a  great  many  sound  things  to  think 
about.  He  gives  practical  religion.  That  is  what  everyday 
men  and  women  want.  That  was  a  very  beautiful  thought  of 
his  that  men  are  apt  to  think  that  they  are  worse  than  they  are, 
and  that  they  should  see  that  the  true  gauge  of  their  character 
is  the  best  that  is  in  them.  This  is  what  shows  a  man  his  own 
possibilities;  and  the  way  in  which  Dr.  Brooks  spoke  of  the  pity 
of  God  for  those  who  had  fallen  short  of  the  glorious  possibilities 
of  their  natures  was  a  helpful  lesson;  it  kindled  ambition,  in- 
spired hope,  and  warmed  the  heart  with  the  love  of  God  for  Hi& 
children.  This  is  what  people  ought  to  hear,  and  this  is  what  he 
is  telling  them." 

Mr.  Brooks  was  impressed  by  a  man  who  approached  him  after 
the  service,  thanked  him  for  coming,  and  asked  if  he  could  recom- 
mend anything  for  his  wife's  rheumatism.  It  was  the  human 
side  of  religion,  as  in  the  days  when  Christ  was  on  the  earth,  after 
hearing  the  gospel  people  brought  their  sick  to  be  healed.  He 
promised  the  man  to  attend  to  his  request. 

On  the  30th  of  January  and  on  the  6th  of  February  Phillips 
Brooks  met  the  same  large  audience,  with  no  diminution  in  at- 
tendance or  interest.  He  preached  great  sermons  also;  one  from 
the  text,  "He  shall  drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way;  therefore  shall 
he  lift  up  the  head  "  (Ps.  ex.,  7),  where  he  dwelt  on  the  sense  of 
responsibility  and  the  power  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins;  and  an- 
other sermon  from  the  text,  "Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make 
me  clean"  (Matt,  viii.,  2),  when  evangelical  hymns  were  sung, 
"  Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy,"  and  "Just  as  I  am,  without 
one  plea."  There  were  other  efforts  at  this  time  to  reach  the 
people  at  the  Globe  Theatre.  To  these  services  Phillips  Brooks 
went  with  the  message  that  he  had  given  in  Faneuil  Hall,  ana 
always  met  the  same  large  concourse  of  the  unchurched  classes. 
It  seemed  as  if  a  strong  religious  wave  were  passing  over  Boston. 

During  the  weeks  that  cover  the  sermons  at  Faneuil  Hall, 


49o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Trinity  Church  and  its  rector  were  absorbed  in  efforts  for  the 
extension  of  the  parish  life.  In  response  to  his  appeal  for  fifty- 
thousand  dollars,  the  amount  was  raised  with  great  enthusiasm 
for  the  purpose  of  establishing  St.  Andrew's  Mission  Church  and 
equipping  it  with  various  helpful  agencies.  Under  the  guidance 
of  the  assistant  minister  at  Trinity,  Rev.  Reuben  Kidner,  St. 
Andrews  has  continued  to  fulfil  the  large  purpose  in  the  mind  of 
Phillips  Brooks.  Speaking  of  his  dream  of  what  it  might  be, 
he  wrote  to  Mr.  R.  T.  Paine : 

"And  now,  St.  Andrew's.  Let  that  be  conceived  as  generously 
as  possible.  Let  there  be  nothing  mean  about  it.  If  we  need 
more  money  let  us  get  it.  Let  us  make  it  a  home  of  which  neither 
rich  nor  poor  need  be  ashamed.  Let  us  anticipate  vastly  more 
of  work  and  life  than  we  at  present  have  to  put  in  it.  In  all  this 
I  am  with  you  heartily.  The  main  hall  of  the  parish  building, 
I  believe,  will  be  above  all  our  expectations  in  its  usefulness, — 
a  sort  of  Palace  of  Delight,  like  the  one  we  read  about  in  London 
four  years  ago,  and  which  I  saw  in  its  partial  realization  the  other 
day.  It  may  be  made  the  centre  of  all  sorts  of  good  influences 
for  that  whole  region.  O  that  I  could  see,  on  the  18th  of  Sep- 
tember, as  I  turn  into  Chambers  Street,  the  chaste  and  elegant 
facade  of  a  finished  building  all  ready  for  its  work,  with  Kidner 
waving  a  St.  Andrew's  flag  upon  the  doorstep,  and  the  crowd 
waiting  for  the  blessing  at  the  open  windows!  I  shall  not  quite 
see  that,  but  something,  I  am  sure,  will  have  been  done,  and  there 
is  time  left  yet  before  we  die,  and  other  people  are  to  follow  us 
and  take  up  what  we  leave  undone." 

St.  Andrew's  Church,  the  most  elaborate  mission  church  which 
had  then  been  planned  in  this  part  of  the  country,  became  an 
offering,  commemorating  the  tenth  anniversary  of  the  consecra- 
tion of  Trinity  Church.  Mr.  Brooks  made  it  the  opportunity  of 
saying  a  few  words  about  the  church  and  about  his  own  work : 

"I  do  not  come  to  you  to-night  with  statistics.  I  have  not 
even  counted  how  many  have  been  baptized  in  these  ten  years, 
how  many  times  the  marriage  service  has  been  performed,  how 
many  times  the  beautiful  burial  service  has  been  read  over  the 
dead,  how  many  of  you  have  been  confirmed.  I  have  not  looked 
to  see;  I  do  not  care.  I  care  more  for  what  these  services  have 
been  to  you  and  to  many  souls.  I  do  know  that  some  have  come 
in  to  them  and  have  gone  out  with  no  change  in  their  faces;  but 
there  has  been  a  change ;  there  is  something  which  they  have  got 


SERMON  AT  ANDOVER  491 

which  they  did  not  have  before  they  came.  I  know  that  many 
of  you  have  been  helped,  that  many  of  you  are  the  better  for 
these  years  of  services  in  this  church.  .  .  .  Far  be  it 
from  us  to  boast  of  what  our  church  has  done,  but  for 
some  things  we  can  be  thankful  that  they  have  been  done 
right.  We  welcome  all  those  who  come  to  worship  with  us.  I 
know  how  heartily,  and  often  at  no  little  inconvenience  to  your- 
selves, this  welcome  has  been  given.  There  has  not  yet  been 
turned  away  a  person  from  our  doors  when  there  was  a  seat  for 
him  to  occupy. 

"And  as  your  minister  may  I  thank  you  for  your  help  and 
sympathy  during  these  years?  You  have  made  my  task  any- 
thing but  a  burden.  As  our  church  has  grown  and  duties  have 
increased,  it  has  been  impossible  to  keep  up  the  personal  inter- 
course which  we  had  together  in  the  first  years.  I  appreciate 
the  patience  which  you  have  shown  to  me.  When  a  person  gives 
up  his  whole  life  to  such  work,  trying  not  to  refuse  to  any  the  aid 
which  he  may  be  able  to  give,  I  think  he  may  still  ask  for  contin- 
ued patience.  I  ask  that  you  will  bear  with  me  in  the  future. 
We  are  thankful  for  the  past  years,  but  we  want  to  make  the 
coming  years  fuller  and  better,  to  consecrate  ourselves  more 
fully  to  God,  and  do  more  earnest  work  for  Him." 

At  Andover,  where  he  went  on  January  4,  to  preach  the  ser- 
mon at  the  consecration  of  the  new  Episcopal  church,  he  made 
it  the  occasion  for  asserting  more  positively  the  faith  that  was 
in  him  regarding  the  Christian  Church.  The  sermon  glowed 
with  the  intensity  of  his  emotions.  He  spoke  of  the  place  of 
the  Episcopal  Church  in  the  Puritan  town: 

"  Long  before  our  Church  came  here  this  was  a  distinctly  relig- 
ious town.  The  Church  of  Christ  in  other  forms,  the  experience 
of  Christ  in  other  forms,  in  deep  reality  was  here.  ...  It  is  not 
in  arrogant  presentation  of  herself  as  the  only  Church  of  Christ 
to  which  this  old  religiousness  must  conform  before  it  can  be 
really  churchly.  God  forbid !  It  is  as  one  distinct  and  valuable 
form  of  Christian  thought  and  life — as  one  contribution  to  the 
Church  of  the  future  which  is  to  be  larger,  deeper,  wiser,  holier 
than  any  Church  existing  in  the  land  to-day." 

The  thought  of  Phillips  Brooks  on  the  nature  of  the  Church,  its 
doctrine  and  worship,  has  already  been  given;  but  he  now  spoke 
with  a  deeper  emphasis  and  with  great  intensity  of  feeling: 

"The  Church  is  no  exception  and  afterthought  in  the  world, 
but  is  the  survival  and  preservation  of  the  world's  first  idea, — 


492  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  anticipation  and  prophecy  of  the  world's  final  perfectness. 
The  Church  of  Christ  is  the  ideal  humanity.  Say  not  that  it 
leaves  out  the  superhuman.  I  know  no  ideal  humanity  that  is 
not  filled  and  pervaded  with  the  superhuman.  God  in  man  is 
not  unnatural,  but  the  absolutely  natural.  That  is  what  the 
Incarnation  makes  us  know. 

"The  Church  is  the  most  truly  human  institution  in  the  world; 
the  church  building  is  the  most  human  institution  in  the  town. 
It  means  the  most  human  thing  of  all,  the  truest  human  fact  of 
all  facts,  that  man  intrinsically  and  eternally  belongs  to  God. 

"Whatever  mystic  richness  must  belong  to  the  Church's  two 
perpetual  sacraments,  warm  forever  with  the  touch  of  the  very 
hands  of  the  dear  Lord,  deepened  and  filled  with  the  countless 
holy  experiences  of  countless  souls,  they  must  be  ever  pervaded, 
not  in  contradiction  or  in  diminution,  but  in  increase  of  their 
sacredness,  by  the  simplicity  and  humanity  which  is  in  their  very 
essence.  The  elemental  substances, — water  and  bread  and 
wine, — these  keep  the  two  sacraments  forever  broad  and  true. 
It  is  through  earth's  most  common  substances  that  Christ,  the 
Son  of  man,  symbolically  gives  Himself  to  man.  The  stream, 
the  field,  the  vineyard,  have  their  essential  sacredness  declared 
in  those  deep,  venerable  words,  'Baptize  all  nations.'  'This  is 
My  Body.'     'This  is  My  Blood.' 

"The  Church  whose  fundamental  truth  is  the  essential  sacred- 
ness of  man  must  hold  its  doctrines  humanly.  ...  It  will  be- 
lieve that  no  doctrine  has  been  truly  revealed  until  the  human 
consciousness  has  recognized  its  truth.  It  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  false  awe  of  the  Credo  quia  impossibile.  The  truths 
of  heaven  and  the  truths  of  earth  are  in  perfect  sympathy;  every 
revelation  of  the  Bible  is  clearer  the  more  it  is  to  be  found  in  the 
speaking  conscience,  or  in  the  utterance  of  history,  or  in  the 
vocal  rocks. 

"The  real  authority  of  man  to  speak  to  brother  man  must  rest 
in  personal  qualities  and  conditions  It  is  truth  which  cannot  be 
carried  save  by  the  believing  soul.  It  is  God  who  can  only  shine 
through  a  soul  luminous  and  transparent  with  His  own  divinity. 
Behind  all  other  authorities  lies  forever  the  first  authority  of 
intelligence  and  sympathy  and  consecration.  Without  that  all 
other  authorities  are  worthless.  With  that,  no  man  may  dispar- 
age any  ministry,  however  simple  and  unelaborate  that  ministry 
may  be  in  other  things." 

A  new  pulpit  was  at  this  time  placed  in  Trinity  Church,  in 
order  that  Mr.  Brooks  might  be  better  heard  in  some  parts  of 
the  building.  He  had  hitherto  preached  from  a  lecturn,  the  same 
that  he  had  used  in  Huntington  Hall,  originally  associated  with 


DIOCESAN  CONVENTION  493 

Holy  Trinity  Chapel  in  Philadelphia,  whence  it  had  been  sent  to 
him  as  a  gift,  at  his  own  suggestion.  What  importance  he  at- 
tached to  the  associations  connected  with  it  is  evident  from  the 
circumstance  that  the  upper  part  of  this  lecturn  was  fitted  to  the 
new  pulpit,  for  a  sermon  board.  So  he  preserved  the  connection 
of  his  years. 

To  the  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks,  who  was  making  the  tour  of  Egypt 
and  Palestine,  he  writes: 

"  Sunday  (Sexagesima),  February,  1887. 

"At  Cairo  I  lose  you,  for  I  have  never  been  up  the  Nile,  and  it 
is  a  mysterious  jumble  of  tombs  and  sphinxes  and  pyramids  to 
me.  If  you  see  the  veritable  Rameses,  with  the  magnificent 
head,  tell  him  I  salute  him,  and  am  quite  sure  that  those  Hebrews 
must  have  been  terribly  exasperating  and  disagreeable  people. 
How  strange  it  does  seem  that  out  of  them  should  have  come  the 
world's  religion!" 

With  reference  to  the  "mind  cure,"  in  regard  to  which  his 
opinion  had  been  misrepresented,  he  writes: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  25,  1887. 

"I  have  never  heard  of  these  people  who  are  disturbing  Albany, 
and  I  have  no  sympathy  with  their  kind.  There  is  a  truth  in  the 
fantastic  performances  and  the  confused  philosophy  of  the  '  mind 
cure,'  but  it  and  the  notions  which  are  related  to  it  are  capable 
of  vast  mischief  in  the  hands  of  ignorant  and  self-seeking  men 
and  women.  Such  seem  to  be  the  folks  of  whom  you  speak. 
May  those  for  whom  you  care  be  saved  from  them.  I  assure  you 
they  have  no  right  to  quote  me  as  their  endorser." 

An  incident  occurred  at  the  Diocesan  Convention  in  May  which 
is  characteristic.  In  1886  it  had  been  voted  to  change  the  rule 
of  order  requiring  a  sermon  at  the  opening  of  the  Convention. 
When  Mr.  Brooks  heard  of  it  he  was  indignant  at  the  idea  of  tak- 
ing away  the  one  chance  which  a  man  had  of  preaching  to  his 
brethren;  it  seemed  like  abolishing  the  first  function  of  the  min- 
istry. At  the  Convention  in  1887  he  moved  that  the  words  be 
restored  calling  for  a  sermon  by  the  appointed  preacher.  He 
made  a  short  and  vigorous  speech  in  behalf  of  his  motion,  and 
carried  the  Convention  with  him.  A  member  of  the  Convention 
writes:  "The  ease  with  which  he  swung  the  Convention  back  to 


494  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  sermon  was  striking.     I  think  no  debate  followed  his  speech. 
We  all  let  him  have  his  way." 

On  the  8th  of  June  Mr.  Brooks  sailed  for  England,  accompa- 
nied by  his  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  William  G.  Brooks,  and  her  daugh- 
ter, Miss  Gertrude  Brooks.  His  visit  differed  from  previous  ones 
in  that  he  was  mainly  concerned  to  put  himself  at  the  disposal 
of  the  ladies,  and  share  their  pleasure  at  seeing  what  was  so  famil- 
iar to  him.  Among  his  English  friends  and  admirers  there  was 
a  rush  to  be  early  in  the  field  of  those  claiming  his  services  as  a 
preacher.  The  Queen's  Jubilee  eclipsed  e^ery  other  event  in 
national  interest.  One  of  his  English  friends  wrote  him  that  it 
seemed  fitting  he  should  be  present  as  "a  loyal  subject." 

"The  Queen  will  come  in  great  state  to  the  Abbey.  It  will  be 
a  ceremony  such  as  only  occurred  three  times  in  nine  hundred 
years  (Henry  III.,  Edward  III.,  George  III.),  and  will  be  a  remi- 
niscence of  the  coronation.  Tickets  of  admission  will  be  very 
hard  to  get.  They  are  given  to  very  few  except  the  Houses  of 
Lords  and  Commons,  courtiers,  and  the  great  ones  of  the  earth. 
But  you  shall  have  a  seat;  I  pledge  myself  to  get  you  one." 

Mr.  Brooks  preached  but  a  few  times  in  England,  at  St.  Mar- 
garet's, Westminster,  as  usual,  and  at  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  where 
he  met  Dean  Church.  He  also  preached  at  Crosthwaite  Church, 
in  Keswick, — "the  greatest  sermon  Crosthwaite  ever  listened  to," 
wrote  the  vicar.  He  went  down  to  the  East  End  and  made  a 
speech  to  the  workingmen.  Among  the  invitations  he  was 
obliged  to  decline  was  one  from  the  chaplain  of  the  Royal  Dock- 
yard Church,  with  its  large  number  of  English  soldiers  and  their 
officers.  He  met,  through  the  kindness  of  Archdeacon  Farrar, 
a  large  number  of  the  clergy.  The  Nonconformists  gave  him  a 
warm  welcome. 

After  a  few  weeks  in  London,  he  went  with  his  companions 
for  a  journey  in  rural  England,  visiting  cathedrals  and  other 
objects  of  interest,  and  on  the  19th  of  July  left  England,  as  he 
writes,  "for  the  old  commonplace  Continental  journey, — Brus- 
sels, Cologne,  the  Rhine,  Heidelberg,  the  Tyrol,  Venice,  Milan, 
Switzerland,  Paris, — all  old  and  delightful,  but  no  longer  with 
the  charm  of  novelty."  He  showed  himself  a  restless  traveller, 
impatient  to  be  moving,  unwilling  to  be  idle  when  there  was  any- 


CHURCH  CONGRESS  495 

thing  to  be  done;  giving  the  friends  who  were  with  him  no  rest 
in  his  desire  to  show  them  what  ought  to  be  seen. 

When  the  travellers  reached  Geneva,  Phillips  Brooks  was 
called  to  know  what  physical  suffering  meant,  in  consequence  of 
a  felon  on  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand.  He  seemed  to  bear  it 
with  heroic  patience.  Despite  well-nigh  unendurable  agony  he 
preserved  his  integrity.  For  weary  days  and  sleepless  nights 
he  continued  to  suffer  and  endure.  He  was  urged  to  call  in  a 
physician,  but  refused,  in  hope  that  the  pain  would  subside,  reluc- 
tant to  admit  that  he  could  not  overcome  by  strength  of  will  an 
aberation  of  nature.  At  last  he  had  almost  waited  too  long. 
When  the  physician  was  summoned,  he  was  alarmed  on  examin- 
ing the  arm,  to  find  symptoms  so  dangerous  that  he  despaired 
of  saving  it.  Just  before  the  finger  was  cut  open,  he  advised 
chloroform,  but  it  was  declined;  to  his  patient's  request  that  he 
might  light  a  cigar  the  physician  consented,  and  he  held  the  cigar 
in  his  mouth  during  the  operation:  "There  was  a  moment,"  said 
the  physician,  "when  he  did  n't  draw." 

The  injury  to  his  hand  prevented  Mr.  Brooks  for  some  time 
from  the  use  of  his  pen,  and  no  letters  record  his  movements. 
On  the  1 8th  of  September,  he  was  again  at  his  post  in  Trinity 
Church,  and  had  resumed  his  connection  with  Harvard  Univer- 
sity. In  October  he  went  to  the  Church  Congress  at  Louisville, 
Kentucky,  where  he  made  a  speech  on  "Apostolical  Succession," 
stating  his  position  with  the  vigor  which  church  congresses 
engender.  There  were  hisses  in  the  hall  as  he  spoke.  A  promi- 
nent layman  who  heard  him  remarked  it  would  have  been  a 
pleasure  to  assist  in  throwing  him  into  the  Ohio  River.  Again 
the  speaker's  words  were  caught  up  and  carried  throughout  the 
country.  No  record  of  the  speech  remains,  for  the  records  of 
this  congress  perished  by  some  accident  in  the  flames.  There 
is  one  brief  allusion  to  the  subject  in  a  letter  written  by  Mr. 
Brooks  after  his  return  to  Boston,  October  27,  1887: 

"Only  last  night  did  I  get  back  from  this  ecclesiastical  junket, 
which  began  with  the  Congress  in  Louisville,  and  ended  with  the 
ministerial  council  in  Philadelphia.  The  congress  was  ugly,  but 
the  saints  had  good  rooms  at  the  hotels  and  there  were  enough  of 
them  to  praise  each  other's  speeches." 

With  one  other  letter  this  phase  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Brooks  comes 


496  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

to  an  end,  and  he  no  longer  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  pursue 
the  subject.  Three  times  he  had  spoken  his  mind  with  all  the 
fiery  energy  of  his  nature, — at  the  General  Convention  in  1886, 
at  Trinity  Church,  and  in  the  Church  Congress.  He  had  made 
his  position  known;  there  could  be  no  doubt  where  he  stood.  In 
this  letter  to  Dr.  Dyer,  for  many  years  the  honored  leader  of  the 
Evangelical  school,  he  shows  himself  still  despondent,  and  ex- 
presses his  misgivings.  The  letter  is  of  further  importance 
for  its  avowal  that  he  no  longer  holds  the  system  known  as 
Evangelical : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  19,  1887. 

"Dear  Dr.  Dyer, — It  does  me  good  to  hear  your  blessed 
voice  again.  Old  scenes  come  trooping  up  with  the  sight  of  your 
handwriting,  and  I  am  a  youngster  again,  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
my  elders  and  betters.  Yes,  I  will  be  an  officer  of  the  Chuich 
Missionary  Society  if  they  want  me  to, — most  of  all,  if  you 
want  me  to, — but  it  will  not  save  the  Church.  Nothing  will 
save  it,  I  fear.  It  is  fast  on  the  way  to  become  a  small,  fantas- 
tic sect,  aping  foreign  ways  and  getting  more  and  more  out  of 
sympathy  with  the  great  life  of  the  country.  I  am  sorry  indeed, 
but  I  cannot  think  anything  else.  Look  at  the  West  and  see 
what  our  Church  means  there.  Where  are  the  dioceses  that  you 
strove  to  build  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago?  Well,  well,  the 
work  will  be  done  by  somebody,  even  if  our  Church  refuses  to  do 
it.     But  what  a  chance  we  had! 

"I  know  no  better  place  to  work,  and  so  I  work  on  still  in  the 
old  Church,  growing  more  and  more  out  of  conceit  with  organi- 
zations,— more  and  more  sure  that  the  dogmatic  theology  in 
which  I  was  brought  up  was  wrong,1  but  more  and  more  anxious 
for  souls  and  eager  to  love  God  every  year.  The  old  days  when 
we  haunted  Dr.  Vinton's  study  and  hammered  out  Constitutions 
for  the  Divinity  School  in  Philadelphia,  and  took  breakfast  with 
the  Volanses,  look  very  bright,  but  far  away  and  very  young. 
Those  days  were  earlier,  but  these  are  happier, — and,  on  the 
whole,  the  larger  hopes  which  live  on  Christ  and  expect  Him  to 
do  His  work  in  His  own  way  are  more  inspiring  even  than  the 
hopes  we  used  to  have  for  E.  K.  S.  and  E.  E.  S." 

1  The  points  on  which  Mr.  Brooks  recognized  his  divergence  from  the 
dogmatic  theology  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up  were  these:  1.  Its 
view  of  baptism  as  a  covenant.  2.  Its  literal  theory  of  inspiration  and 
its  conception  of  Scripture  as  a  whole.  3.  Its  separation  between  things 
secular  and  sacred;  its  failure  to  recognize  truth  in  other  religions  and 
in   non-Christian   men;    its   indifference   to    intellectual   culture.     4.  Its 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK     497 

To  the  Rt.  Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter  he  writes  concerning  the 
over-valuation  of  ecclesiastical  domesticities: 

"333  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  26,  1887. 

"No,  my  dear  Henry,  I  will  not  go  back  on  what  I  wrote,  or 
what  the  Evening  Post  says  that  I  wrote,  which  is  the  same 
thing. 

"  I  conceive  the  trimming  of  the  altar,  the  cleaning  of  the  can- 
dlesticks, the  cutting  out  of  artificial  flowers,  and  the  darning  of 
the  sacramental  linen  to  be,  on  the  whole,  the  noblest  occupation 
of  the  female  mind,  the  very  crown  and  glory  of  the  parish  work 
of  women.  They  correspond  exactly  to  the  sublime  work  of 
showing  strangers  to  seats  and  playing  checkers  with  loafers  at 
the  reading-room,  which  is  what  we  have  canonized  as  men's 
work  in  the  same  parish.  How  beautiful  they  both  are!  How 
worthy  of  the  male  and  female  topstones  of  Creation! 

The  following  extracts  are  taken  from  his  note-book  for  the 
current  year: 

"The  true  symmetry  of  the  Intellectual  and  Spiritual  in  the 
religious  teacher.  The  Seminary  is  the  place  to  produce  it. 
One-sidedness  of  College  and  other-sidedness  of  much  popular 
religious  life;  the  minister  to  restore  the  balance  and  to  learn 
how  in  the  Seminary." 

"The  present  tendency  to  reduce  doctrinal  demands.  Shall  we 
insist  on  full  requirements  for  the  sake  of  consistency,  or  reduce 
faith  to  its  barest  terms  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  conciliation? 
Either  implies  a  power  over  truth  which  we  do  not  possess.  No, 
the  duty  of  such  times  as  these  is  to  go  deeper  into  the  spirituality 
of  our  truths." 

"The  tendency  of  good  people  to  object  more  to  a  dissenter 

tendency  to  limit  the  Church  to  the  elect.  5.  Its  view  of  salvation  as 
escape  from  endless  punishment.  6.  Its  insistence  upon  the  necessity 
of  acknowledging  a  theory  of  the  Atonement  in  order  to  salvation.  7. 
Its  insufficient  conception  of  the  Incarnation  and  of  the  Person  of  Christ. 
8.  Its  tendency  to  regard  religion  too  much  as  a  matter  of  the  emotions 
rather  tnan  of  cnaracter  and  will.  And  yet  he  regarded  these  points  as 
the  accidents  of  the  Evangelical  theology,  not  its  essence.  Its  essence 
lay  in  devotion  to  the  Person  of  Christ.  In  his  deep  harmony  with  this 
feature  of  Evangelical  teaching,  he  seemed  to  remain  an  Evangelical 
4o  the  end. 


498  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

than  to  an  infidel;  to  hate  another  shade  of  truth  more  than 
error.     (See  Lord  Falkland's  Speech  in  Rushworth,  vol.  iii.) " 

"The  sense  of  sadness  in  life  as  one  grows  older,  not  wholly  a 
sign  of  the  badness  and  unsatisfactoriness  of  the  world;  partly 
a  mere  regret  at  leaving  what  is  pleasant  even  for  something 
pleasanter.  Landing  from  a  steamer.  Partly  the  sense  of 
vastness,  which  is  always  sad." 

"The  need  of  teaching  sure  religion;  something  definite. 
The  fallacy  of  hoping  to  teach  religion  in  general,  to  inspire 
mere  devotional  feeling." 

"The  different  temperaments,  intellectual,  mystic,  and  practi- 
cal; the  different  ways  in  which  each  receives  truth.  The  real 
Church  comprehends  all.  Dangers  of  asserting  either  solely  as 
the  office  of  the  Church." 

"The  vague  talk  about  the  good  in  other  religions  as  if  it  de- 
tracted from  the  value  of  Christ's  teaching." 

"The  ink  of  the  learned  is  as  precious  as  the  blood  of  the 
martyrs." 

"It  is  the  clear  and  constant  feeling  and  presentation  of  the 
personality  of  the  gospel  that  prevents  its  becoming  monotonous. 
A  person  is  endlessly  interesting.  You  can  tell  men  of  him  for- 
ever, men  who  care  for  him.  But  a  truth  once  stated  is  not  to 
be  forever  repeated. 

"The  faculty  of  perceiving  what  is  needed;  the  way  in  which  it 
belongs  to  some  men  and  not  to  others.  The  presence  of  it 
makes  the  good  preacher ;  the  lack  of  it  shown  in  men  who  argue 
endlessly  for  nothing." 

"Jesus  taught — by  personal  presentation,  awaking  conscience, 
reaching  truth  on  moral  side,  and  establishing  church  (John  vi.). 
Paul  taught  by  starting  from  old  knowledge.  Address  at 
Athens.  John  Baptist  taught  by  convicting  of  sin  and  arousing 
hope.  They  all  went  to  work  to  break  up  dead  satisfaction, 
and  create  lively  desire." 

"The  way  in  which  people  listen.  We  say  they  listen  stupidly, 
but  really  what  they  want  is  Religion.  The  sifting  power  of  a 
congregation.  It  takes  what  it  comes  for:  if  poetry  or  science, 
then  that;  if  religion,  then  that,  throwing  all  else  aside." 

On  November  26  Mr.  Brooks  laid  the   corner-stone   of  the 


CORRESPONDENCE  499 

new  St.  Andrew's  Church,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  number 
of  people.  On  his  fifty-second  birthday  he  wrote  this  letter 
to  Mrs.  Robert  Treat  Paine : 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  13,  1887. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Paine, — I  want  to  write  a  word  before  the 
birthday  closes,  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  word  and  the  bright 
flowers  which  made  the  birthday  possible  to  bear.  You  and 
yours  will,  I  know,  stand  by  me  to  the  end,  and  give  me  your 
friendship  till  I  get  safely  through. 

"God  bless  you  for  all  you  have  been  to  me  all  these  years. 
"Affectionately  yours, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

1888. 

RAILWAY  ACCIDENT  IN  PHILADELPHIA.  INCIDENTS  OP 
PARISH  LIFE.  LENTEN  SERVICES.  CORRESPOND- 
ENCE. SENTIMENT  AND  SENTIMENTALITY.  COM- 
MENTS ON  "ROBERT  ELSMERE."  THANKSGIVING 
SERMON. 

In  the  first  month  of  this  new  year  Phillips  Brooks  encoun- 
tered the  vision  of  sudden  death.  Such  was  the  report  which 
startled  Boston  on  the  morning  of  January  27: 

"Dr.  Brooks  had  come  on  from  Boston  to  visit  his  many 
friends  in  this  city  [Philadelphia],  and  to  assist  at  the  opening 
of  the  new  chapel  of  the  Holy  Communion,  at  Twenty-seventh 
and  Wharton  streets.  He  was  at  the  residence  of  Rev.  Dr. 
Cooper,  No.  2026  Spruce  Street,  during  the  afternoon,  and  later 
in  the  evening  Rev.  Dr.  McVickar,  with  his  sister,  called  in  a  car- 
riage for  the  reverend  gentlemen  to  convey  them  to  the  chapel. 

"  So  bad  was  the  condition  of  the  icy  streets  that  the  driver  had 
difficulty  in  keeping  his  horses  on  their  feet.  It  was  just  7.45 
o'clock  when  they  got  to  Greenwich  Street,  and  the  driver  turned 
his  horses'  heads  to  cross  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad.  The  spot 
is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  in  the  city,  the  high  walls  of  the 
Arsenal  building  almost  shutting  the  trains  from  the  view  of 
drivers  of  vehicles.  The  safety  gate  was  not  shut,  in  conse- 
quence of  its  being  so  encrusted  with  ice  that  it  could  not  be 
worked.  The  driver,  seeing  that  the  gate  was  open  and  not  seeing 
or  hearing  an  approaching  train,  drove  upon  the  tracks.  Hardly 
had  those  in  the  carriage  seen  the  dazzling  headlight  of  the  engine 
before  it  was  upon  them,  catching  up  the  heavy  carriage  like  an 
eggshell,  overturning  it  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  crushing 
a  great  hole  in  the  side  where  it  had  struck. 

"Along  the  track  for  fifty  yards  the  engine  pushed  the  cab 
and  its  affrighted  occupants  before  it  could  be  stopped.  The 
engineer  had  seen  the  carriage  before  the  locomotive  struck  it, 

500 


RAILWAY  ACCIDENT  501 

and  he  at  once  reversed  the  lever.  Had  not  this  been  done  it  is 
probable  that  some  if  not  all  would  have  been  killed. 

"Ready  hands  came  to  the  rescue  and  helped  the  members  of 
the  party  out  of  their  perilous  position.  Rev.  Dr.  Cooper  and 
Miss  McVickar  had  been  thrown  violently  against  the  side  of  the 
cab.  Dr.  McVickar  was  covered  with  broken  glass  and  wood, 
and  across  Dr.  Brooks's  breast  rested  a  heavy  axletree.  All 
considered  their  escape  from  instant  death  as  marvellous.  The 
driver  fared  worst.  He  was  hurled  from  his  box  to  the  ground, 
and  lay  last  night  in  a  semi-conscious  condition. 

"The  delay  in  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  the  chapel  caused  some 
alarm,  and  a  carriage  was  sent  in  search  of  them.  The  searchers 
found  the  clergymen  by  the  railroad  tracks,  and  conveyed  them 
to  the  chapel,  where  the  services  proceeded  as  if  nothing  had 
happened." 

There  are  allusions  to  the  accident  in  his  conversation  and  in 
his  letters: 

"I  was  not  the  least  afraid  to  go;  I  know  there  are  beautiful 
things  God  has  to  show  us  in  the  other  world ;  but,  I  want  to  live 
to  see  what  He  has  to  show  us  that  is  beautiful  and  wonderful 
in  the  coming  century  in  this  world." 

"You  do  not  know  the  good  which  your  letter  has  done  me. 
If  you  did,  you  would  be  glad  all  your  life  for  the  blessed  hour 
in  which  you  wrote  it.  I  have  had  all  my  share  of  happiness, 
and  more.  I  have  had  friends  such  as  are  given  to  fe.w  men, 
and  they  have  been  constant  and  faithful  to  me  in  a  way  that 
fills  me  with  gratitude  and  wonder  when  I  think  of  it;  but  life 
is  pretty  lonely,  after  all,  and  so,  when  one  of  the  oldest  of  the 
oldest  of  one's  friends  says  kind,  good  things  like  this,  it  sort  of 
breaks  me  down,  and  I  am  glad,  like  a  true  awkward  Bostonian, 
that  you  are  not  here  to  see  how  much  I  feel  it.  This  morning 
lots  of  people  called,  and  I  felt  amazed  and  overcome  to  find 
how  much  people  cared  whether  I  lived  or  died.  And  so  the 
thing  goes  into  history,  and  we  are  safe  for  some  years  more  of 
work.  God  knows  how  many !  The  more  the  whole  event  takes 
possession  of  me,  the  more  I  am  willing  to  leave  it  all  to  Him, 
sure  that  it  would  have  been  all  right  if  He  had  called  us  then, 
and  sure,  too,  that  every  week  of  work  He  still  allows  us  is  a 
privilege." 

The  marvellous  escape  left  its  impression  upon  Phillips  Brooks. 
He  seemed  to  give  himself  even  more  unreservedly  to  the  de- 
mands of  the  people.     A  visitor  who  spent  several  weeks  at 


5Q2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  rectory  in  1888  was  astonished  at  the  frequency  with  which 
the  door  bell  rang,  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning ;  he  kept 
a  record,  and  found  that  it  averaged  once  for  every  five  minutes. 
He  declined  to  appoint  hours  when  he  would  be  at  home  to 
callers.  Any  one  who  went  to  call  upon  him  at  this  time  would 
be  apt  to  find  some  one  waiting  for  him  in  the  reception-room, 
another  in  the  dining-room,  while  he  was  closeted  with  a  third 
in  the  study. 

There  were  symptoms  that  his  health  was  gravely  impaired, 
but  he  continued  to  give  himself,  as  if  with  the  desperation  of 
one  who  felt  that  his  time  was  short.  There  was  nothing  that 
was  so  much  wanted  of  him  now  as  the  man  himself.  A  friend 
had  an  appointment  to  meet  him  at  the  rectory  at  eight  o'clock 
one  evening,  whence  they  were  to  go  to  a  reception.  Not  till 
nearly  eleven  o'clock  did  Mr.  Brooks  return  to  his  house  to  keep 
the  appointment.  He  had  been  detained  at  a  hospital  by  a 
colored  man  who  had  been  injured  in  some  affray  and  had  sent 
for  him.  A  physician  whom  they  met  expressed  some  surprise 
that  Mr.  Brooks  should  not  have  sent  his  assistant,  as  any 
physician  would  have  done.  The  reply  was  that  the  man  had 
sent  for  him. 

A  workingman,  living  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Boston,  was 
told  at  the  hospital  that  he  must  undergo  a  dangerous  surgical 
operation ;  that  he  could  not  live  unless  it  were  performed ;  that 
it  was  doubtful  even  then  if  his  life  could  be  saved,  but  there 
might  be  a  chance.  He  returned  with  the  information  to  his 
home  and  his  wife.  The  operation  was  to  take  place  the  next 
day.  They  had  the  evening  before  them,  and  they  proposed  to 
spend  it  in  a  call  on  Phillips  Brooks  whom  neither  of  them  knew, 
nor  had  they  the  slightest  claim  on  his  attention.  Mr.  Brooks 
received  them  as  they  had  expected  he  must,  talked  with  them 
and  soothed  them,  and  promised  to  be  with  them  at  the  hospital 
on  the  following  day. 

In  other  instances  of  a  similar  kind  he  kept  the  details  of  his 
kindness  to  himself.  It  is  not  that  these  incidents  are  peculiar 
in  his  experience.  What  strikes  the  imagination  is  the  contrast 
they  suggest,  between  the  preacher  who  moved  the  admiration 
of  the  world  and  had  received  its  honors,  and  the  man  claimed 
as  their  own  by  the  humblest,  the  lowest.  It  would  have  been  easy 


PARISH  INCIDENTS  503 

to  have  withdrawn  himself,  pleading  that  he  was  engaged  in  a 
higher  work ;  that  he  had  no  right  to  be  giving  his  days  to  minis- 
trations which  others  could  perform  as  well,  while  no  one  could 
do  the  greater  work  he  was  accomplishing.  He  might  have 
gone  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  asceticism  and  have  reasoned 
that  the  joy  of  social  life  was  incompatible  with  daily  minis- 
trations to  human  suffering.  But  life  in  itself  was  never  richer 
or  more  attractive;  a  social  function  still  had  its  charm. 

In  the  midst  of  many  engagements,  and  when  life  was  at  its 
fullest,  there  are  occasional  complaints  that  he  is  lonely.  Con- 
sciousness of  isolation,  lack  of  complete  sympathy,  or  the  unique 
position  he  occupied,  the  large  demands  for  human  love  which 
no  friendships  could  satisfy, —  these  may  help  explain  his  sense 
of  increasing  loneliness.  He  became  more  than  ever  dependent 
upon  his  friends.  It  was  strange  that  with  a  world  of  friends  he 
should  ever  find  himself  alone.  What  he  dreaded  at  times  was 
the  return  to  the  house  at  night  where  there  was  no  one  to  wel- 
come him.  His  face  would  light  up  in  the  evenings  if  fortunately, 
at  ten  o'clock,  he  found  some  friend  awaiting  him  in  the  study. 
But  the  note  of  his  life  was  one  of  hope  and  cheer  for  the  world. 
"The  richest  gifts  of  God  cannot  be  imparted  at  once,  and  man 
must  wait  in  patience  until  the  inward  preparation  to  receive 
them  is  completed."  "Life  in  the  individual  or  the  race  follows 
the  analogy  of  education,  where  the  best  is  held  in  reserve." 
About  this  time  was  written  the  sermon  entitled  "The  Good 
Wine  at  the  Feast's  End."  It  was  born  of  an  inward  conflict 
in  the  adjustment  of  the  changes  of  life. 

"Christianity  is  full  of  hope.  It  looks  for  the  ever  richer  com- 
ing of  the  Son  of  Man.  It  lives  in  sight  of  the  towers  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  which  fill  the  western  sky.  Therefore  it  has  been  the 
religion  of  energy  and  progress  everywhere  and  always. 

"There  are  ways  in  which  the  world  grows  richer  to  the  grow- 
ing man,  and  so  the  earliest  years  cannot  be  meant  to  be  the  full- 
est or  the  most  glorious,  but  that  privilege  must  belong  rather  to 
the  ripest  and  the  last. 

"When  what  we  vaguely  call  this  life  is  done,  there  is  to  come 
the  fulfilment  of  those  things  of  which  we  have  here  witnessed 
the  beginnings.  This  is  the  sublime  revelation  of  the  Christian 
faith.  The  words  of  Christ  reach  forward.  They  all  own  present 
incompleteness.  The  soul  which  uses  them  is  discontented  and 
lives  upon  its  hope." 


5o4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

The  accident  at  Philadelphia  left  no  visible  traces  on  his  phys- 
ical system.  He  took  up  his  work  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
In  the  early  part  of  the  year  he  was  making  many  addresses  out- 
side of  his  parish:  at  the  Groton  School,  the  Boston  Latin  School, 
the  Little  Wanderers'  Home,  the  Harvard  Vespers,  the  Working- 
men's  Club,  and  St.  Mary's  Church  for  Sailors,  in  East  Boston, — 
a  diversified  list  of  calls  upon  his  sympathy. 

Lent  came  in  on  February  1 5.  He  commented  on  "the  change 
to  the  great  shadow."  "There  is  much  foolish  talk  about  op- 
timism and  pessimism,  but  the  highest  and  deepest,  the  brightest 
and  darkest  thoughts  of  life  must  go  together."  His  sermon  for 
Ash  Wednesday  was  on  the  "Sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us." 
Another  sermon  is  remembered  on  "David  and  the  Shewbread," 
where  he  dwelt  on  the  freedom  of  the  Bible,  the  freedom  of 
great  men  like  David.  "The  needs  of  human  nature  are  su- 
preme, and  have  a  right  to  the  divinest  help.  The  little  tasks 
need  divinest  impulses.  The  secular  woes  are  only  to  be  relieved 
by  God.     In  this  use  the  shewbread  is  most  honored." 

In  a  sermon  at  Harvard  vespers,  March  8,  he  spoke  on  the 
text,  "God's  judgments  are  far  above  out  of  his  sight."  "There 
are  judgments  of  our  lives  of  which  we  are  unaware,  which  we 
are  not  fine  enough  to  feel.  But  the  order  of  the  universe  feels 
the  judgment  as  a  jar  between  its  wheels.  Essential  righteous- 
ness is  busy  condemning  us  and  setting  right  the  wrong  which  we 
are  doing.  It  is  awful  to  be  thus  judged  at  judgment  seats  too 
high  for  us  to  know.  Our  brother  beside  us  is  being  judged  at 
them  and  knows  it ;  therefore  the  restless  disturbance  of  his  life. 
As  we  grow  stronger  we  come  into  ever  higher  and  higher  judg- 
ments.    Christ  judged  by  them  all:  'This  is  My  beloved  Son.' " 

In  his  Bible  class  on  Saturday  evenings,  he  commented  on  the 
Psalms.  He  preferred  those  which  he  could  associate  with  the 
experience  of  David,  for  David  was  one  of  the  few  whom  he 
accounted  great  in  the  world,  and  the  Psalms  gained  in  vividness 
when  associated  with  a  great  personality.  "Only  the  experi- 
ences of  a  great  soul  accounted  for  such  great  utterances." 

There  were  sermons  dwelling  on  human  sinfulness;  one  from 
the  text,  "  He  putteth  his  mouth  in  the  dust,  if  so  be  there  may 
be  hope" ;  another,  on  the  words  of  Jesus,  "Neither  do  I  condemn 
thee.     Go,  and  sin  no  more,"  where  he  dwelt  on  the  dilemma  in 


LENTEN  SERVICES  505 

which  sin  places  those  who  would  fain  deal  with  it.  "  How  diffi- 
cult it  is  to  meet  it  rightly !  The  fear  of  cruelty  and  fear  of 
feebleness;  the  sense  of  one's  own  sinfulness;  the  danger  of  being 
superior  and  patronizing;  the  fear  of  exasperating  and  condoning. 
So  we  keep  out  of  the  way.  The  first  thing  about  Christ  is  that 
He  never  kept  out  of  the  way." 

The  prominence  of  Christ  in  these  Lenten  services  overshadows 
all  the  utterances.  It  seemed  as  if  the  speaker  had  known  Him 
in  the  flesh,  or  had  other  conversations  with  Him  in  the  spirit, 
enlightening  him  as  to  the  deeper  meaning  of  the  Saviour's  words. 
Two  sermons  were  given  to  the  "Loneliness  of  Christ."  On 
Wednesday  evenings  he  took  up  the  relations  of  Jesus  to  some 
of  the  problems  of  society  and  life.  Of  special  interest  were  the 
lectures  on  the  Litany  given  on  Friday  afternoons.  He  analyzed 
its  structure  and  the  significance  of  its  various  divisions,  the 
variety  of  its  appeal,  the  emphasis  in  repetitions,  its  unvary- 
ing uniform  cry  for  deliverance.  The  invocation  of  the  Trinity 
in  the  opening  clauses  was  intended  to  expand  the  grounds  and 
motives  of  the  infinite  appeal.  He  dwelt  especially  on  the  phrase 
"miserable  sinners,"  as  representing  the  human  soul  standing 
in  its  emptiness  and  waiting  to  be  filled  with  the  profusion  of  God : 

"On  the  threshold  of  the  Litany  sinfulness  is  encountered,  as  in 
actual  life, — the  hindrance  of  sin.  Its  sources, — the  very  sub- 
stance of  our  own  nature;  the  remoter  sources, — the  offences  of 
our  forefathers.  The  double  cry  to  escape  the  punishment  and 
to  be  delivered  from  these  palsying  consequences,  the  guilt  and 
power  of  sin.  (i)  The  sense  of  a  universe  against  us,  of  external 
foes,  the  assaults  of  the  devil,  and  the  feeling  of  the  wrath  of  God; 
(2)  the  defects  within  the  soul,  the  passions  and  meannesses,  the 
spites  and  hatreds, — the  soul  deceitful  and  corrupt;  (3)  the  triple 
agency  of  evil, — the  woild,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil;  (4)  the  dan- 
gers of  the  physical  life, — the  cry  to  be  spared  from  "sudden 
death";  (5)  the  evils  of  corporate  life,  heresy,  and  schism." 

One  lecture  was  devoted  to  "The  Great  Appeals  of  the  Litany," 
— "by  the  mystery  of  Thy  Holy  Incarnation,  Thy  passion, 
Thy  resurrection,  and  ascension."  Then  he  turned  to  the  public 
means  of  grace,  the  Church,  the  Ministry,  the  Sacraments,  the 
State  also,  and  suggested  a  new  petition  for  "the  world  of 
nations."  He  closed  with  an  impressive  summary :  "  We  sinners, 
what  right — and  yet  what  a  right  we  have  to  pray ! " 


5o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

The  Good  Friday  sermon  was  from  Hebrews  x.,  20 — "By  a 
new  and  living  way  which  He  hath  consecrated  for  us  through 
the  veil,  that  is  to  say,  His  flesh." 

"It  is  strange  how  the  great  critical  event  of  the  world's  life  is 
a  Death;  not  a  battle,  nor  a  coronation,  nor  a  new  institution, 
nor  a  birth,  but  yet  all  these  summed  up  in  this  dying. 

"Obedience  unto  death.  This  the  only  real  approach  to  God. 
You  may  crowd  upon  Him  any  other  way  and  you  do  not  reach 
Him.  Only  the  great  submission  of  the  will  blends  our  life  with 
His. 

"The  great  silent  bliss  as  soul  joins  soul, — the  Son  and  the 
Father!  But  surely  also  those  whose  life  He  had  gathered  up 
into  His  own!  He  carried  them  through  and  in  His  obedience. 
Can  we  understand  that?  The  human  flesh  has  been  always  an 
obstacle;  Christ  made  it  a  channel  between  God  and  man." 

The  sermon  for  Palm  Sunday  was  on  the  cry  of  the  multi- 
tudes that  went  before  and  followed  after  Christ  as  He  entered 
Jerusalem.  "The  great  future  for  the  world  and  for  the  personal 
life"  was  the  subject:  "Up  the  broad  pathway,  lo,  He  comes 
rejoicing  in  the  solemn  crisis  and  the  awful  acquisition  of  life." 

On  Easter  Even  was  revealed  "the  history  that  pauses. 
Here  and  there  it  seems  to  wait  a  moment.  So  with  the  world's 
history;  so  with  a  life's.  There  are  moments  when  greater 
powers  are  more  forceful  than  we  can  feel;  greater  truths  are 
truer  for  us  than  we  can  know." 

Exhausting  as  the  Lenten  services  were,  Mr.  Brooks  came  to 
Easter  Day  with  the  culmination  of  his  powers.  The  morning 
service  at  Trinity  was  attended  by  "the  largest  congregation  ever 
gathered  within  its  walls."  The  sermon  was  only  another  varia- 
tion of  the  endless  theme — 

"the  value  and  sacredness  of  life,  the  impossibility  of  man's  cre- 
ating it,  the  tremendous  power  with  which  man  clings  to  life, 
and  the  imperishable  hope  with  which  man  looks  forward  to  the 
perpetuation  of  life. 

"  No  matter  what  crazy  sorrow  saith, 
No  soul  that  breathes  with  human  breath 
Has  ever  truly  longed  for  death. 

"In  Christ  there  came  rolling  back  the  great  flood  of  life,  and 
into  the  harbor  of  life  a  flood  of  vitality.  The  thought  of  Eas- 
ter is  the  Sea  of  Life,  the  ocean  without  bounds,  flowing  all 


LENTEN  SERVICES  507 

ways  and  overflowing  all,  the  Divine  existence  in  its  ocean-like 
extension." 

An  extraordinary  scene  was  presented  at  Trinity  Church  during 
the  Lenten  services  beginning  with  this  year  1888.  They  were 
chronicled  as  public  events  of  high  importance.  They  reminded 
of  "the  flood  of  fiery  eloquence  poured  forth  by  Savonarola." 
The  preacher  had  made  elaborate  preparation,  as  evidenced  by 
the  note-books  for  the  year  1888  and  the  following  years  to 
1 89 1.  This  last  phase  of  the  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks  was 
marked  by  a  deeper  solemnity  and  an  ineffable  tenderness, 
where  the  heart  alone  was  speaking  and  each  individual  present 
was  the  closest  friend.  Great  throngs  were  always  in  attend- 
ance. The  addresses  reported  and  published  were  read  with 
eagerness  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  In  one  of  his  letters, 
March  13,  1888,  he  refers  to  the  passing  of  Lent: 

"The  blessed  Lenten  days  are  fast  slipping  away  from  us,  and 
before  we  know  it  we  shall  come  out  of  the  golden  gate  of  Easter 
into  that  bewildering  world  where  we  do  not  go  to  church  every 
day.  How  strange  it  will  all  be!  But  to-day,  Winter  is  in  our 
faces,  and  Lent  is  in  our  hearts." 

As  the  months  went  by  he  continued  to  feel  the  influence  of 
his  wonderful  escape:  "How  long  ago  it  all  seems,  and  yet 
what  a  shudder  it  sends  through  one's  bones  to  think  of  it. 

Mr.  sent  to   New  York  and  got  me  a  magnificent  and 

mighty  stick  to  replace  that  one  that  vanished  on  that  awful 
night,  so  that  I  carry  a  memorial  of  the  great  accident  on  all 
my  walks."  He  was  engaged  in  getting  signatures  to  an  address 
to  be  made  to  James  Martineau.  On  March  23,  he  went  to 
Halifax  to  be  present  at  the  consecration  of  Bishop  Courtney. 
He  was  projecting  a  larger  work  for  Trinity  but  he  felt  also  the 
need  of  an  arrangement  by  which  he  should  be  relieved  of  some 
part  of  the  burden  of  preaching.  To  all  his  suggestions  the 
Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church  responded,  with  "grateful  acknow- 
ledgment of  his  untiring  and  devoted  services."  He  was  with- 
drawing from  some  of  the  responsible  positions  he  held,  resigning 
his  trusteeship  on  the  Slater  Foundation,  to  which  he  had  been 
appointed  by  Mr.  Slater  in  1882,  when  he  made  his  gift  of  one 


5o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

million  dollars  for  Christian  education  in  the  Southern  States. 
To  the  Rt.  Rev.  H.  C.  Potter  he  wrote: 

"  233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  June  5,  1888. 

"Can  you  really  care  about  the  infinitesimal  question  of 
'non-communicating  attendance'?     It  seems  to  me  to  be  the 

very  end  and  exhaustion  of  religion,  a  toy  for  the intellect 

to  play  with,  but  profoundly  unworthy  the  consideration  of 
any  reasonable  man. 

"And  then  the  way  the  disputants  deal  with  it!  The  appeals 
to  authority!  The  eager  interest  in  the  question  whether  the 
Early   Fathers  'stayed  to  Communion'!     Who  cares? 

"Are  all  the  hard  questions  answered  and  the  great  wrongs  set 
right  that  men  are  able  to  find  time  for  things  like  these? 

"I  hope  that  you  are  well  and  idle." 

At  Trinity  Church,  on  Sunday,  the  10th  of  June,  Phillips 
Brooks,  in  the  course  of  his  sermon,  spoke  of  the  death  of  Rev. 
James  Freeman  Clarke,  a  Unitarian  minister  who  for  many 
years  had  been  held  in  the  highest  respect  and  reverence  in 
Boston,  for  his  intellectual  and  moral  force  and  his  saintly 
character : 

"I  cannot  stand  here  to-day  without  a  tribute  of  affectionate 
and  reverent  remembrance  to  Dr.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  the 
minister  of  the  Church  of  the  Disciples,  the  friend  and  helper  of 
souls.  How  much  that  name  has  meant  in  Boston  these  last 
forty  years!  When  I  think  of  his  long  life;  when  I  remember 
what  identification  he  has  had  with  all  that  has  been  noblest  in 
every  movement  of  the  public  conscience  and  the  public  soul; 
when  I  see  how  in  the  days  of  the  great  national  struggle,  from 
first  to  last,  he  was  not  only  true  to  Freedom,  but  a  very  captain 
in  her  armies  and  a  power  of  wisdom  and  inspiration  in  her  coun- 
cils ;  when  I  think  what  words  of  liberty  the  slave  and  the  bigot 
have  heard  from  his  lips;  when  I  think  how  his  studies  have 
illuminated  not  merely  our  own  faith,  but  all  the  great  religions ; 
when  I  see  how  much  of  Christ  was  in  his  daily  walk  among  us, 
in  his  unswerving  truthfulness,  his  quiet  independence,  his  ten- 
derness and  strength,  his  pity  for  the  sinner,  and  his  hatred  of 
the  sin;  when  I  think  how  he  loved  Christ, — when  all  this  gathers 
in  my  memory  at  the  tidings  of  his  death,  the  city,  the  country, 
the  Church,  the  world,  seem  emptier  and  poorer.  He  belonged 
to  the  whole  Church  of  Christ.  Through  him  his  Master  spoke 
to  all  who  had  ears  to  hear.  Especially  he  was  a  living  epistle  to 
the  Church  of  Christ  which  is  in  Boston.     It  is  a  beautiful, 


JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE  509 

a  solemn  moment  when  the  city,  the  Church,  the  world,  gather 
up  the  completeness  of  a  finished  life  like  this,  and  thank  God 
for  it,  and  place  it  in  the  shrine  of  memory  to  be  a  power  and 
a  revelation  thenceforth  so  long  as  city  and  Church  and  world 
shall  last.  It  is  not  the  losing,  it  is  rather  the  gaining,  the 
assuring  of  his  life.  Whatever  he  has  gone  to  in  the  great  mys- 
tery beyond,  he  remains  a  word  of  God  here  in  the  world  he 
loved.  Let  us  thank  our  Heavenly  Father  for  the  life,  the  work, 
the  inspiration,  of  his  true  servant,  his  true  saint,  James  Freeman 
Clarke." 

Part  of  this  tribute,  beginning  with  the  words  "He  belonged 
to  the  whole  Church  of  Christ,"  is  now  an  autograph  beneath 
the  portrait  of  James  Freeman  Clarke  in  the  church  where 
he  ministered. 

Letters  were  constantly  received,  telling  what  his  published  ser- 
mons were  doing  to  strengthen  faith  and  inspire  hope.  This 
letter  is  from  a  person  in  England  unknown  to  him,  and  repre- 
sents the  feeling,  almost  the  expressions,  of  the  many  others 
who  wrote: 

"  May  14,  1888. 
"For  the  last  five  years  I  may  say  that  I  have  read  one  of  your 
sermons  every  Sunday,  and  the  help  and  spiritual  nourishment 
I  get  from  them  has  been  a  very  real  source  of  strength  and 
happiness  in  my  life.  .  .  .  Often  and  often  have  I  opened  a 
volume  of  your  sermons  in  hours  of  despondency  and  gloom,  when 
the  Unseen  has  seemed  to  be  the  non-existent,  when  all  high 
ideals  were  slipping  away,  and  the  actual  was  pressing  out  faith 
and  courage;  and  never  did  the  reading  of  your  words  fail  to 
encourage  and  strengthen  me  and  send  me  back  to  suffering  or 
action  with  fresh  force  and  energy.  I  have  been  through  the 
various  phases  of  intellectual  doubt  and  scepticism,  and  you  have 
helped  me  out  on  the  right  side.  The  absence  of  all  dogmatism 
and  sectarian  narrowness,  combined  with  so  inspiring  a  belief  in 
God's  revelation  of  Himself  to  us  and  of  the  Divine  in  us,  is 
what  I  find  so  helpful  in  your  books;  and  the  large  views  you 
take  of  life  are  to  me  most  educative  and  elevating." 

The  late  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  was  among  those  who 
admired  and  appreciated  Phillips  Brooks: 

"296  Beacon  Street,  MAy  23,  1888. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Brooks, — I  had  the  privilege  of  listening  to 
your  sermon  last  Sunday  forenoon.     I  was  greatly  moved  and 


5io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

impressed  by  it,  and  I  came  away  very  thankful  that  so  divine 
a  gift  of  thought  and  feeling  had  been  bestowed  upon  one  who 
was  born  and  moves  among  us. 

"My  daughter  would  be  glad  to  have  me  as  her  constant  com- 
panion, and  of  course  it  would  be  a  delight  to  listen  to  such 
persuasive  and  inspiring  exhortations  as  those  which  held  your 
great  audience  last  Sunday.  .  .  . 

"I  am  ashamed  to  ask  you  to  pardon  this  letter.     You  know 
the  language  of  sincerity  from  that  of  flattery,  and  will  accept 
this  heartfelt  tribute  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  given. 
"  Sincerely  and  respectfully  yours, 

"O.  W.  Holmes." 

He  kept  up  his  correspondence  with  friends  in  India,  where  he 
was  held  in  affectionate  remembrance.  In  his  leisure  at  North 
Andover,  where  he  was  spending  the  summer,  he  wrote  these 
letters  to  Rev.  Mr.  Lefroy,  and  to  Mr.  Robert  Maconachie  of  the 
Indian  Civil  Service: 

"July  s,  1888. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Lefroy, — It  made  me  glad  and  proud  to  get 
your  letter,  now  a  long  time  ago.  To  be  remembered  for  five 
years  by  one  whose  life  is  as  full  as  yours  is  indeed  something 
to  be  proud  of,  and  to  have  the  pleasant  days  which  we  spent  at 
Delhi  so  pleasantly  recalled  is  truly  a  delight. 

"How  long  ago  it  seems,  and  what  a  host  of  things  have  hap- 
pened since,  and  yet  how  clear  it  all  is.  I  had  a  delightful  let- 
ter from  Maconachie  the  other  day,  which  was  like  the  thinning 
of  a  cloud  which  was  very  thin  already.  I  saw  the  old  scene 
perfectly,  and  could  hear  the  tones  of  voices  which  I  have  not 
heard  for  five  busy  years.  And  that  you  and  the  friends  I  saw 
with  you  have  been  bravely  and  patiently  going  on  at  the  good 
work  ever  since  fills  me  with  admiration.  Do  you  still  have 
your  noon  service  in  your  chapel-room  as  you  used  to?  That 
seemed  to  me  always  beautiful.  And  do  the  brown  boys  play 
cricket?  And  do  you  have  school  feasts  and  prizes?  And  is  that 
region  of  the  Kuttub  as  fascinating  as  it  was  when  we  drove  out 
there  one  bright  morning?  I  can  hear  the  cool  splash  of  that 
boy  now,  as  he  jumps  down  into  the  pool.  It  is  a  picture  which 
never  grows  dim,  and  only  needs  the  touch  of  a  letter's  wing  to 
scatter  the  dust  which  lay  collected  on  it. 

"That  you  in  your  good  work  should  care  anything  about  my 
books  touches  me  very  much  indeed.  They  were  written  for  my 
people  here,  and  nothing  was  farther  from  my  thought  than  that 
they  should  be  read  by  the  Jamna  and  the  Ganges.  But  how 
simple  it  all  grows  as  we  get  older!     The  whole  of  what  we  per- 


CORRESPONDENCE  5" 

sonally  have  to  live  and  what  we  go  out  to  preach  is  loyalty  to 
Christ.  It  is  nothing  but  that.  All  truth  regarding  Christ  and 
all  duty  towards  His  brethren  is  involved  in  that  and  flows  out 
from  it.  To  teach  Him  to  any  one  who  never  heard  of  Him  is 
to  bring  a  soul  into  the  sight  of  Him  and  His  unspeakable  friend- 
ship. To  grow  stronger  and  better  and  braver  ourselves  is  to 
draw  nearer  to  Him  and  to  be  more  absolutely  His. 

"And  this  seems  to  take  off  the  burden  of  life  without  lessen- 
ing the  impulse  of  its  duties.  He  is  behind  all  our  work.  It  is  all 
His  before  it  is  ours  and  after  it  is  ours.  We  have  only  to  do 
our  duty  in  our  little  place,  and  leave  the  great  results  to  Him. 
We  are  neither  impatient  nor  reluctant  at  the  thought  of  the  day 
when  we  shall  have  finished  here  and  go  to  higher  work. 

"But,  dear  me!  what  right  have  I  to  say  all  this  to  you,  who 
know  it  so  much  better,  who  are  putting  it  so  constantly  and 
richly  into  your  life  and  work?  I  grow  stronger  for  Boston 
when  I  think  of  Delhi.  I  hope  that  Allnut  will  come  back  to 
you  mightily  refreshed.  Give  my  best  love  to  Carlyon,  and  tell 
him  how  well  I  remember  all  his  kindness.  Your  other  mates 
I  do  not  know,  but  venture  to  send  them  my  greeting  as  their 
brother  in  the  work.  Be  sure  that  I  shall  always  delight  to  hear 
from  you.  How  hot  you  must  be  to-day !  Would  that  you  were 
here  in  our  New  England  coolness.     God  bless  you  always! 

"Your  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

"July  6,  1888. 

"Dear  Mr.  Maconachie, — It  is  long  since  anything  has 
made  me  so  glad  as  your  letter.  That  you,  with  all  your  busy 
life,  should  think  still  of  those  two  weeks  which  are  an  unfading 
picture  in  my  memory  is  indeed  wonderful  to  me.  I  greet  you 
and  your  wife  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday  instead  of  five  long  years 
since  we  parted.  What  a  life  God  has  given  you!  To  be  His 
minister  to  millions  of  His  children,  to  touch  their  lives  with 
the  new  sense  of  justice  and  mercy  which  must  bring  them  some 
revelation  of  Him,  and  at  the  same  time  to  care  for  the  real  life 
which  is  the  spiritual  life  of  some  of  your  fellow-workers — who  is 
there  that  has  greater  privilege?  All  that  you  say  about  your 
friend  touches  me  deeply.  God  help  him!  The  great  assuring 
certainty  is  that  God  is  helping  him.  I  think  we  should  all  of 
us  long  ago  have  given  up  trying  to  do  anything  for  our  friends 
if  we  had  not  been  spiritually  sure  of  that.  The  things  we  do 
are  so  out  of  proportion  to  what  is  to  be  done.  But  He  is  doing 
it,  and  our  work  may  well  be  content  to  be  a  bit. 

"Since  I  saw  you  life  has  gone  on  with  me  in  very  pleasant 
monotony.  I  came  back  to  my  work  in  the  autumn  of  1883. 
Twice  since  then  I  have  made  summer  visits  to  England  and  the 


5i2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Continent.  The  winters  have  been  given  to  preaching  and 
working.  I  hope  it  has  not  been  without  result.  But  I  grow  less 
and  less  inclined  to  ask.  The  work  itself  is  delightful,  and,  if 
it  is  faithfully  done,  it  must  do  good.  That  is  enough.  Every 
year  it  seems  to  me  as  if  not  merely  the  quantity  but  the  quality 
of  Christian  life  grew  better.  Never  was  there  an  age  when  so 
many  men  had  so  high  thoughts  of  God  as  now.  And  this  I  say 
in  clear  sight  of  the  perplexing  problems  and  discouraging  spec- 
tacles to  which  no  man  can  shut  his  eyes.  We  see  dimly  what 
your  anxieties  are.  We,  with  our  country  swarming  with  the 
disturbed  elements  of  all  the  world,  have  our  anxieties  and  mis- 
givings, which  are  yet  not  too  much  for  faith.  Is  it  not  just  in 
our  two  countries,  yours  and  mine,  India  and  America,  that  the 
meeting  of  strange  races  with  one  another  is  taking  place,  and  so 
that  the  issues  of  the  greater  day  of  Christ  are  being  mysteriously 
made  ready?  Would  that  we  could  sit  either  in  your  bungalow 
or  in  my  study  and  talk  of  all  these  things!  But  this  letter- 
writing  is  poor  work.  It  is  only  like  ships  hailing  each  other  at 
sea.  But  it  is  better  than  nothing.  Your  letter  brought  me 
the  Indian  sunshine  and  color  and  strength,  and  Boston  for  a 
moment  seemed  the  unreal  thing.  Now  I  am  reading  it  again, 
and  answering  it  under  my  ancestral  trees  in  the  country  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Boston,  where  my  forefathers  have  lived  for  a 
century,  and  where  I  retreat  for  summers.  It  is  the  very  glory 
of  a  summer  day.  The  trees  are  chattering  Puritan  theology, 
and  I  am  rejoicing  that  the  world  is  larger  than  they  know,  and 
that  afar  off  in  the  Punjab  there  is  some  one  who  cares  how  it 
fares  with  me.  May  God  bless  him  and  his  wife  and  his  boys 
— so  prays  his  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

On  Sunday,  the  15th  of  July,  Dr.  Brooks  preached  at  Trinity 
Church  before  the  National  Prison  Congress.  The  sermon  was 
noteworthy  apart  from  its  eloquence,  for  it  contained  the  asser- 
tion of  important  theological  and  humanitarian  principles,  and 
as  such  was  immediately  published  by  the  National  Prison 
Association  for  gratuitous  distribution.  The  text,  "I  was  in 
prison  and  ye  came  unto  me,"  led  him  to  take  up  the  deeper 
meaning  of  the  words  of  Christ,  who  had  suffered  no  imprison- 
ment and  yet  had  been  in  prison.  "It  must  have  been  the 
deeper  Christ, — the  Christ  which  the  theologies  have  tried  to 
express  when  they  have  made  Jesus  the  head  of  humanity, — 
Christ  the  typical  manhood,  Christ  the  divine  and  universal  man, 
— this  was  the  Christ  who  had   lain  in  the  prison  waiting  the 


NATIONAL  PRISON  CONGRESS     5U 

visitation  of  pitiful  and  sympathetic  hearts."  The  great  human 
sympathy  of  the  preacher  flowed  through  the  sermon  like  a 
river.  It  closed  with  a  fine  passage  drawing  the  distinction 
between  sentiment  and  sentimentality: 

"In  a  word,  sentiment  is  the  health  of  human  nature,  and 
sentimentality  is  its  disease.  Disease  and  health  often  look 
strangely  alike,  but  they  are  always  different.  He  who  would  es- 
cape sentimentality  must  live  in  sentiment.  He  who  would 
keep  sentiment  true  and  strong  must  fight  against  sentimen- 
tality, and  never  let  himself  accept  it  for  his  ally.  In  these  days, 
when  many  men  are  disowning  sentiment  because  they  confound 
it  with  sentimentality,  and  many  other  men  are  abandoning 
themselves  to  sentimentality  because  they  confound  it  with 
sentiment,  do  not  all  men  need  to  learn,  and  never  to  forget, 
their  difference?  Do  any  men  need  more  to  learn  and  to 
remember  it  than  they  who  have  to  deal  with  prisoners  and 
prisons?" 

In  response  to  an  invitation  that  he  would  deliver  a  lecture, 
he  writes: 

"Trenton  Falls,  July  22,  1888. 

"Your  letter  of  last  Wednesday  has  found  me  at  this  pleasant 
place,  where  I  am  spending  a  peaceful  Sunday  without  preaching 
or  any  other  clerical  performance,  only  looking  at  the  pretty 
falls,  and  going  this  morning  to  a  little  village  Methodist  meeting, 
where  the  sermon  was  very  good  indeed.  And  here  comes  your 
request  to  lecture  in  your  course  next  winter!  If  it  were  only 
anything  but  lecturing!  If  you  had  only  asked  me  to  give  a  con- 
cert, or  a  ballet,  or  any  of  those  things  which  are  quite  in  my  line! 
But  I  have  never  lectured,  and  don't  believe  I  can.  I  have  not 
a  rag  of  preparation  to  cover  the  nakedness  of  my  incompetence." 

He  gives  his  impressions  of  Robert  Elsmere,  which  was  the 
literary  sensation  of  the  summer: 

"I  have  finished  Robert  Elsmere,  and  found  it  very  interesting, 
mainly,  however,  with  that  secondary  interest  which  belongs  to 
the  circumstances  of  a  book  and  its  relation  to  its  time,  rather 
than  to  its  substance  and  absolute  contents.  It  is  a  curious  mix- 
ture of  strength  and  weakness.  It  has  the  sharp  definitions  of 
spiritual  things,  the  fabrication  of  unreal  dilemmas  and  alterna- 
tives in  which  the  English  mind,  and  especially  the  English  cleri- 
cal mind,  delights.  It  is  as  unintentionally  unfair  as  a  parson, 
33 


5i4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

only  on  the  other  side.  It  seems,  as  Matthew  Arnold  used  to 
seem,  to  be  entirely  unaware  of  the  deeper  meanings  of  Broad 
Churchmanship,  and  to  think  of  it  only  at  an  effort  to  believe 
contradictions,  or  as  a  trick  by  which  to  hold  a  living  which  one 
ought  honestly  to  resign. 

"It  is  not  good  to  name  a  doctrine  by  a  man's  name,  but 
there  is  no  sign  that  this  writer  has  ever  heard  of  the  theology  of 
Maurice.  But  how  interesting  it  is!  what  charming  pictures  of 
English  life!  and  what  description  of  mental  conditions  and 
evolutions  whose  real  source  and  true  issue  we  must  still  feel 
that  she  misses!" 

Among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Brooks  there  are  rough  notes  indi- 
cating that  he  had  been  asked  for  some  more  formal  expression 
of  his  opinion.  The  book  had  been  so  real  in  its  portraiture  that 
it  had  thrown  people  into  mental  and  religious  confusion. 

"Thoroughly  English.  Weakness  of  the  orthodox  people. 
Preconceived  idea  that  they  must  not  think.  Perhaps  a  return  to 
the  human  Christ  from  which  the  disciples  began.  Thence  to 
be  led  on  through  the  mystery  of  manhood  into  His  complete  life. 
The  whole  question  what  is  to  become  of  his  Brotherhood.  Not 
be  contemptuous  about  the  new,  extemporized,  experimental 
character  of  it.  By  such  experiments  the  great  eternal  stream 
of  effort  is  constantly  reinforced.  The  Christ-miracle;  and  then 
all  else  believable.  Broad  Churchmanship  is  not  explaining 
away,  but  going  deeper,  embracing  all  nature.  This  is  Matthew 
Arnold  turned  to  prose.  The  incomplete  story  of  the  reasons  of 
the  change  in  Elsmere.  The  nineteenth  century  in  the  book. 
Elsmere  between  the  Squire  and  Catharine.  The  necessary 
struggle  of  the  new  coming  forth  from  the  old,  its  exaggerations 
and  distortions." 

The  attitude  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  rejecting  the  tenet  of  apos- 
tolical succession,  and  his  recognition  of  the  Christian  character 
and  work  of  a  Unitarian  minister,  the  Rev.  James  Freeman 
Clarke,  was  followed  by  hostile  criticism  which  continued  through 
the  summer,  and  indeed  from  this  time  was  never  intermitted. 
He  had  counted  the  cost  when  he  took  his  ground,  discounting 
the  criticism  which  was  sure  to  follow.  The  summer,  on  the 
whole,  had  been  an  agreeable  one,  broken  up  with  short  visits, 
but  with  no  intermission  of  preaching.  He  started  into  the 
work  of  the  fall  with  his  usual  apparent  vigor. 

To  the  proposal  of  some  of  his  friends  to  nominate  him  for  the 


THANKSGIVING  SERMON  515 

presidency  of  Columbia  University,  in  New  York,  he  refused  to 
listen,  calling  it "  a  wild  suggestion" : 

"  My  only  ambition  is  to  be  a  '  Parish  Priest.'  I  am  not  much 
of  a  P.  P.,  but  as  a  College  President  I  should  be  still  less.  It 
would  be  good  to  be  where  I  should  see  you  all,  and  run  perpet- 
ually in  and  out  as  seems  to  be  you  New  York  men's  way.  But 
it  would  not  be  Boston,  and  I  should  be  lost  in  your  vast  town. 
So  leave  me  here,  and  let  another  hold  the  college  sceptre." 

It  was  the  custom  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  reserve  for  his  ser- 
mons on  Thanksgiving  Days  such  topics  of  general  interest,  polit- 
ical or  religious,  as  afforded  the  opportunity  to  summarize  the 
world's  outlook  in  each  successive  year.  In  the  preamble  of  one 
of  these  sermons,  1881,  he  alludes  to  this  usage  and  justifies  it, 
although  aware  of  its  dangers : 

"Thanksgiving  Day  has  fallen  naturally  into  the  habit  of  try- 
ing to  estimate  the  tendencies  and  the  present  conditions  of  our 
current  life.  Such  efforts  have  made  a  great  literature  which  I 
think  is  almost  peculiar  to  our  time,  the  literature  of  an  age's 
introspection ;  of  the  inquiry  by  living  men  into  the  nature  and 
worth  of  the  life  of  their  own  time." 

His  Thanksgiving  Day  sermons  taken  together  present  a  pic- 
ture of  the  time  through  which  he  lived.  In  1888  he  considered 
that  passing  mood  of  sadness  which  seems  to  have  been  wide- 
spread as  the  century  drew  to  its  close,  when  for  a  moment  the 
world  had  grown  subdued  and  thoughtful,  with  a  sombre  estimate 
of  the  future.  Taking  for  his  text  Psalm  lxxxix.,  15,  "Blessed  is 
the  people  that  hear  the  joyful  sound,"  he  spoke  of  the  gratitude 
called  for  by  the  national  festival,  as  in  contrast  with  the  prevail- 
ing mood  of  the  hour. 

"Let  us  think  for  a  few  moments  about  the  tendency  of  the 
world  with  reference  to  this  whole  matter  of  joyfulness.  Some- 
times we  hear,  sometimes  we  certainly  fear,  that  the  world  we 
live  in  is  growing  to  be  a  sadder  world,  that  happiness  is  less  spon- 
taneous and  abundant  as  the  years  go  by.  Is  that  the  truth,  or 
is  it  a  delusion?" 

His  method  of  meeting  the  inquiry  is  to  reduce  it  to  more  exact 
terms.  The  world  of  realism  is  just  as  joyous  as  it  ever  was. 
The  world  of  childhood  knows  no  difference.     The  children  have 


5i6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

not  found  out  that  the  world  is  old.  Each  new  generation  is  still 
born  into  a  garden.  The  world  also  of  uncivilized,  barbaric  life 
keeps  all  the  joy  and  freshness  it  ever  had.  It  is  only  of  the 
comparatively  small  world  of  adult  human  civilization  of  which 
it  may  be  said  that  its  sadness  deepens  its  joy.  And  of  this 
world  it  may  be  asked  whether  its  growing  sadness  is  a  real 
decline  and  loss  of  that  robustness  and  primitive  simplicity  of 
life,  or  whether  the  great  world,  like  every  man,  is  simply  for 
the  moment  moody,  and  the  stage  of  sadness  is  a  temporary 
thing,  not  to  be  made  too  much  of,  sure  to  pass  away,  having  no 
reasons  which  are  deep;  best  treated,  as  the  moods  of  a  great 
healthy  man  are  often  best  treated,  by  ignoring  it.  He  turns 
to  the  reasons  which  may  account  for  this  existing  mood: 

"  (i)  The  larger  view  of  the  world,  the  clearer  atmosphere,  so 
that  we  hear  the  groans  of  misery  in  Mexico  or  Turkey.  The 
curtain  has  fallen  between  the  rich  and  the  poor;  the  poor  look 
into  our  luxurious  homes  with  their  haggard  faces,  and  we  eat 
and  talk  and  sleep  in  the  unceasing  sound  of  their  temptation 
and  distress.  There  has  been  nothing  like  it  in  any  other  day. 
No  wonder  the  world  grows  sad. 

"  (2)  The  universal  ambition ;  all  who  feel  the  spirit  of  the  time 
are  struggling  for  the  unattainable.  There  is  discontent  every- 
where, and  discontent  means  sadness. 

"  (3)  The  vague  way  in  which  our  complicated  life  puts  us  in 
one  another's  power.  The  strings  of  a  man's  destiny  are  held 
by  a  thousand  hands,  most  of  them  unknown  to  him.  Hence 
the  burden  of  a  conscious  helplessness, — a  nightmare  which 
will  not  let  him  stir.  He  is  sad  with  the  vague  loss  of  personal 
life. 

"  (4)  Another  reason  for  the  sadness  of  which  all  are  more  or 
less  aware  is  the  presence  of  fear  as  an  element  in  our  life.  Other 
ages  knew  at  least  what  perils  they  were  threatened  with.  The 
consciousness  of  our  time  is  that  it  does  not  know.  Vast,  un- 
measured forces  hold  us  in  their  hands.  Great,  bleak,  uncertain 
vistas  open  and  appall  us.  We  are  like  children  in  the  waste 
of  a  great  prairie.  The  mere  vastness  scares  us.  We  fear  we 
know  not  what.  We  only  know  we  fear.  And  fear  like  that 
does  not  inspire  and  concentrate  energy.  It  only  breeds  per- 
vading and  pathetic  sadness. 

"  (5)  The  man  on  whom  these  causes  of  sadness  act.  Our 
modern  human  nature  is  sensitive  as  in  no  other  time  to  such  a 
degree.  Things  hurt  more  than  they  used  to  hurt.  Once  no  one 
cared  how  much  the  beasts  suffered  by  the  lash  or  the  surgeon's 


THANKSGIVING  SERMON  517 

knife.  Once  men  went  home  from  an  auto  da  fe  and  slept  with- 
out uncomfortable  dreams.  The  atmosphere  has  grown  clearer 
and  the  perceptions  within  us  finer.  He  who  had  foreseen  it  all 
years  ago  might  have  said  prophetically,  '  What  a  terrible  capa- 
city of  sadness  man  is  growing  into  and  will  reach!'  " 


In  each  one  of  these  motives  he  had  enumerated  he  then  sought 
to  show  there  was  the  possibility  of  contributing  to  joy;  that 
they  are  the  very  elements  and  motives  that  must  be  mingled  in 
the  deepest  joy.  The  large  view  of  the  world,  the  eager  am- 
bitions, the  close  complications  of  life  with  life,  the  outlook 
into  future  mystery,  and  the  quickened  sensitiveness, — these 
are  essential  to  the  final  perfect  happiness;  they  are  permanent 
forces  which  have  come  to  remain;  it  is  only  the  first  influence  of 
them  which  is  temporary ;  as  the  time  goes  on  the  first  confusion 
and  depression  will  pass  away.  "The  life  and  character  of  Jesus 
is  a  perpetual  illumination  of  the  hopes  of  man.  In  Him  behind 
the  superficial  and  temporary  sadness  is  revealed  a  profound  and 
ultimate  joy.  No  restless  and  impatient  pessimist  knows  the 
deep  tragedy  of  life  as  the  Divine  Sufferer  knew  it.  All  that 
lies  undigested,  unassimilated  in  the  present  condition  of  the 
world  lay  harmonized  and  peaceful  in  the  soul  of  Christ." 


"I  have  talked  idly,  almost  wickedly,  upon  Thanksgiving 
morning,  unless  I  have  succeeded  in  making  you  see  light  shine 
out  of  the  darkness,  in  making  you  hear  a  'joyful  sound'  piercing 
through  the  complaints  and  wailings  which  besiege  our  ears.  We 
take  too  little  views.  It  is  not  the  events  of  life,  nor  its  emo- 
tions, or  this  or  that  experience,  but  life  in  itself  which  is  good. 
The  great  joy  is  just  to  be  alive.  The  fact  of  life  is  greater  than 
what  is  done  with  it.  So  I  answer  confidently  the  question 
which  I  asked.  No  period  of  sadness  can  be  other  than  tempo- 
rary. The  nature  of  the  world  is  not  changed.  Nothing  has 
happened  to  make  it  different  from  what  it  has  always  been. 
The  essential  tendency  of  life  is  towards  happiness.  Therefore 
we  may  wait  confidently  till  the  morning.  Optimism  tempered 
and  sobered,  nay,  saddened,  if  you  will,  but  optimism  still  is  the 
only  true  condition  for  a  reasonable  man.  I  seem  to  see  Christ 
stand  over  all  making  the  world  into  His  likeness.  The  promise 
issues  fresh  from  the  divine  lips  of  the  great  Saviour,  the  great 
Sufferer,  the  Son  of  Man,  the  Son  of  God,  that  the  pure  in  heart 
shall  see  God,  and  that  He  will  lead  all  men  to  the  Father." 


5i8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

On  his  fifty-third  birthday  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Robert  Treat 
Paine: 

"  December  13,  1888. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Paine, — I  thank  you  again,  as  I  have  thanked 
you  many  times  before,  and  always  with  a  fuller  and  fuller  heart. 
Few  men  have  had  such  happy  years  and  such  kind  friends  as 
have  been  given  me.  I  wish  I  had  been  more  worthy  of  them, 
but  at  any  rate  I  am  grateful  for  them,  most  of  all  for  you  and 
yours.  I  dare  to  believe  it  will  keep  on  until  I  am  a  hundred. 
At  present,  however,  I  am  looking  forward  to  next  Saturday, 
when  I  shall  thank  you  again.     Gratefully, 

"Your  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

1889. 

WATCH  NIGHT.  OCCASIONAL  ADDRESSES.  LENT  SERVI- 
CES AT  TRINITY  CHURCH.  ILLNESS.  SUMMER  IN 
JAPAN.  EXTRACTS        FROM       NOTE-BOOKS.         THE 

GENERAL  CONVENTION.  SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL 
REFORMS.  THE  EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  CORRE- 
SPONDENCE. 

The  peculiar  service  of  "Watch  Night"  at  Trinity  had  always 
been  an  impressive  spectacle  and  continued  to  grow  more 
impressive  as  the  years  went  by. 

"When  the  hour  of  eleven  opened,  Trinity  Church  appeared  to 
be  filled  in  every  part;  yet  for  some  time  afterward  there  was  a 
constant  stream  of  people  entering  and  following  the  ushers,  who 
kept  on  providing  seats  in  all  possible  places  until  not  another 
seat  could  be  found;  and  then  a  multitude  remained  standing, 
until  the  last  hour  of  1888  was  ended,  and  the  first  hour  of  1889 
had  come.  As  the  hands  of  the  clock  that  stood  within  the  chan- 
cel railing  pointed  to  one  minute  of  midnight,  the  great  congrega- 
tion bowed  in  silent  prayer  until  twelve  strokes  had  been  sounded 
forth,  and  1889  had  begun.  The  united  repetition  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer  aloud  ended  this  solemn  stage  of  the  service,  after  which 
Dr.  Brooks  again  spoke  a  few  earnest  words,  expressing  the  hope 
that  all  present  might  live  stronger,  purer,  more  manly,  more 
womanly,  more  Christlike  lives  in  the  year  that  had  begun  than 
in  the  year  that  had  closed." 

An  incident  occurred  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  which  illus- 
trates the  tolerance  of  Phillips  Brooks.  As  a  member  of  the 
Standing  Committee  of  the  Diocese,  he  voted  to  confirm  the  elec- 
tion of  a  clergyman  to  a  Western  bishopric,  writing  letters  also 
in  his  behalf  to  other  dioceses  which  were  hesitating,  urging  that 

519 


520  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  comprehensiveness  of  the  Church  should  not  be  restricted 
by  any  personal  or  doctrinal  prejudices.  In  a  letter  he  remarks 
that  he  is  surprised  to  find  how  earnest  he  has  become  in  advo- 
cating the  cause  of  one  for  whom  nothing  in  the  world  would  have 
induced  him  to  vote. 

He  comments  on  his  preaching  in  St.  Paul's  Church : 

"I  went  to  St.  Paul's  Church  and  preached  there  morning  and 
evening  the  other  Sunday,  and  had  the  usual  curious  and  mixed 
sensations.  I  could  n't  help  feeling  as  if  Father  and  Mother  were 
sitting  over  in  Pew  No.  60,  and  as  if  I  were  both  the  preaching 
minister  and  the  tall  boy  in  the  congregation." 

During  January  and  February  Mr.  Brooks  went  again  to  Fan- 
euil  Hall  for  four  successive  Sunday  evenings.  He  gave  also  one 
Sunday  evening  to  a  service  in  the  Globe  Theatre.  There  is  the 
usual  record  of  sermons  at  Appleton  Chapel  and  of  addresses  at 
the  Harvard  Vespers.  He  was  getting  relief  under  the  burden 
he  was  carrying  through  the  aid  of  the  assistant  minister,  Rev. 
Roland  Cotton  Smith.  To  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar,  who  was  to 
make  him  a  visit,  he  writes: 

"You  will  preach  for  me,  I  hope,  in  the  morning,  and  then  we 
will  make  Roland  Cotton  Smith  preach  in  the  afternoon,  so  that 
neither  of  us  shall  be  overworked.  Cotton  Smith  is  preaching 
excellently,  and  fast  taking  the  work  out  of  the  hands  of  the  old 
rector." 

The  sermons  which  Mr.  Brooks  delivered  at  Fanueil  Hall  or 
at  the  Globe  Theatre  required  more  preparation  and  a  greater 
effort  of  strength  than  his  ordinary  sermon.  He  was  not  pro- 
posing to  preach  down  to  the  congregations,  but  to  lift  himself 
above  his  highest  level.  He  took  for  one  of  his  texts  the  words 
of  Christ,  "I  am  among  you  as  he  that  serveth."  He  did  not 
urge  upon  his  hearers  the  importance  of  goodness  or  righteousness 
in  themselves;  he  struck  a  deeper  note  when  he  summoned  up 
practical  religion  in  the  effort  to  make  others  good.  "Christ  in 
the  Gospel  never  appears  so  much  as  one  who  is  cultivating 
righteousness  in  Himself,  but  as  one  seeking  to  cultivate  it  in 
others." 

In  his  sermon  at  the  Globe  Theatre  he  dwelt  on  the  necessity 
of  a  feeling  of  "need"  as  lying  beneath  the  world's  life  and  the 


PARISH  MINISTRY  521 

history  of  its  civilization.  No  discovery  was  made  or  work 
done  without  it;  imagine  it  removed  and  there  would  be  a  vast 
stoppage.  "In  the  spiritual  life  the  absence  of  the  sense  of  im- 
perious need  is  the  great  cause  of  sluggishness, — the  dullness  of 
the  churches  compared  with  the  vitality  of  the  streets."  He 
wrestled  like  a  giant  with  his  theme,  till  it  seemed  as  if  every  soul 
must  have  felt  the  need  he  portrayed.  His  text  was  the  words 
of  the  centurion  to  Christ,  "Sir,  come  down,  ere  my  child  die." 

Turning  from  the  sermons,  we  find  him  on  the  1 5th  of  January 
at  the  dinner  given  to  Professor  Lovering  on  the  completion  of 
fifty  years'  service  at  Harvard,  where  he  spoke  for  the  ministry 
as  bringing  their  tribute  to  the  man  of  science.  For  himself,  as 
he  remarked,  he  had  not  been,  while  in  college  or  since,  a  student 
who  excelled  in  the  natural  sciences,  and  for  mathematics,  which 
Professor  Lovering  represented,  he  had  shown  no  aptitude.  And 
yet  there  remained  "the  value  of  forgotten  knowledge,  which  has 
somehow  passed  into  the  blood.  It  was  better  to  have  known 
and  lost  than  never  to  have  known  at  all.  At  least  the  sense  of 
the  value  of  the  sciences  was  something  gained.  It  was  like  for- 
gotten but  effectual  periods  in  the  world's  history."  He  recog- 
nized "the  debt  which  we  all  owe  to  a  man  who  has  made  any 
department  of  life  more  complete,  the  power  of  scientific  study 
to  enrich  life  and  make  it  more  youthful. 

On  the  21st  of  January  he  made  the  address  on  the  occasion  of 
the  thirty-eighth  anniversary  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian  As- 
sociation, when  they  took  possession  of  their  building  on  Boyls- 
ton  Street.  His  subject  was  the  value  of  the  institution,  and  its 
significance  for  human  life.  As  he  went  on  he  broadened  his 
thought  till  it  included  religion  and  the  changes  it  had  undergone. 
He  spoke  of  this  organization  as  one  of  the  necessary  forms  which 
the  changed  form  of  religion  was  demanding.  He  had  no  fear 
of  its  interference  with  the  churches  of  Christ,  for  it  is  the  Church 
of  Christ.  Liberty,  he  impressed  upon  the  young  men,  had  been 
the  characteristic  word  of  the  last  hundred  years,  but  it  was  a 
negative  term,  the  removal  of  obstacles  in  order  that  a  higher 
order  might  come  in,  the  reign  of  human  sympathy  under  the 
recognition  of  human  brotherhood.  "Cultivate  the  power  of 
sympathy  because  it  is  the  spirit  of  your  age  and  the  coming  age." 
Sympathy  "is  curing  more  and  more  the  evils  of  social  life,  mak- 


522  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

ing  harmonious  the  differences  of  our  commercial  life,  entering 
more  and  more  into  the  obstructed  ways  of  secular  life." 

As  we  follow  him  into  another  Lenten  season,  we  can  only 
pause  to  note  the  topics  with  which  he  was  concerned.  Friday 
evenings  he  devoted  to  the  versicles  in  the  Prayer  Book;  as 
he  expounded  them,  words  which  had  become  so  familiar  as  to 
have  almost  lost  their  force  were  seen  to  be  full  of  unsuspected 
depths  of  meaning.  He  dwelt  on  the  "effect  of  a  largely  con- 
structed liturgy  like  ours,  constantly  used,  upon  the  progress  of 
religious  thought  in  an  individual  and  in  a  church."  They  were 
mistaken  who  thought  that  he  slurred  the  service  in  order  to  get 
to  the  sermon.  The  service  took  on  new  beauty  and  impressive- 
ness  when  he  read  it.  "He  puts  into  his  utterance  of  creed  and 
litany  and  prescribed  forms  of  prayer,"  said  a  writer  not  of  his 
own  communion,  "such  wealth  of  personal  consecration  that  a 
person  who  should  hear  that  and  nothing  more  would  remember 
the  thrilling  experience  all  his  days." 

On  Wednesday  evenings  he  dwelt  on  the  "appeals  to  Christ," 
as  given  in  the  Evangelical  narrative:  "Come  down  ere  my 
child  die;"  "Speak  to  my  brother  that  he  divide  the  inheritance 
with  me";  "Give  me  this  water  that  I  thirst  not,  neither  come 
hither  again  to  draw";  "Remember  me  when  Thou  comest  in 
Thy  kingdom."  He  took  up  with  his  Bible  class  the  evidences 
of  Christianity, — what  some  have  thought  to  be  the  most  formal 
and  perfunctory  of  subjects.  His  best  thought  was  in  his  ser- 
mons, presented  in  such  a  living  way  that  Christianity  became 
its  own  evidence.  It  is  evident  from  the  preparation  he  now 
made  that  he  was  trying  to  reach  the  minds  of  the  young  men 
before  him  in  ways  that  they  would  appreciate.  The  distinc- 
tive features  of  his  theology  appear  at  every  turn,  and  the 
thoroughness  of  his  mind,  as  he  takes  up  in  succession  (i) 
Christianity,  (2)  Christ  and  the  Trinity,  (3)  The  Bible,  (4) 
Miracles,  (5)  The  Resurrection,  (6)  The  Church,  (7)  Personal 
Experience,  (8)  Prayer.  Although  he  did  not  value  this  kind 
of  work,  yet  if  his  notes  of  these  lectures  could  be  published, 
they  would  form  a  valuable  manual  for  Christian  instruction. 

One  may  detect  a  somewhat  unusual  tone  in  the  Sunday 
morning  sermons  delivered  during  this  season  of  Lent.  The 
texts  and  their  treatment  imply  a  certain  pathos  in  the  mood 


LENTEN  SERVICES  523 

of  the  preacher.  The  sermon  for  Ash  Wednesday  was  from  the 
text,  "Who  knoweth  if  He  will  return  and  repent  and  leave  a 
blessing  behind  him? " 

"The  picture  is  of  a  departing  God,  once  very  near,  now  going 
away  and  going  further.  To  some  it  is  very  real  as  a  fact  of  ex- 
perience. They  did  once  have  God  nearer  to  them.  The  days  of 
communion  and  obedience  and  realized  love ;  the  definite  stand- 
ards. And  now  the  far-awayness  of  it  all.  Or  to  take  the  com- 
parison, not  of  past  and  of  present,  but  of  idea  and  realization, 
God  is  close  to  us  in  His  own  revelation,  but  far  from  us  in  our 
actualization  of  Him.     This  the  deeper  historic  meaning. 

"  Either  way  the  withdrawing  God  and  the  soul  crying  after 
Him.  Strange  situation!  Driving  Him  away  and  yet  calling 
on  Him  to  stay.  The  mixed  mystery  of  our  inner  life.  .  .  . 
He  certainly  will  return,  else  what  mean  these  promises?  He  is 
not  going  willingly,  nor  angrily,  nor  carelessly.  He  is  going 
because  He  must,  because  you  will  not  have  Him. 

"He  will  return  if  you  seek  Him  rightly.  The  gift  He  will 
bring  back  with  Him  is  an  offering  to  Himself.  Restoration  to 
be  sought  that  we  may  have  a  life  to  give  Him. 

"This  puts  a  motive  into  our  repentance.  Repentance  for 
safety,  even  for  cleanness,  is  not  complete.  The  true  motive 
that  God  may  be  glorified  in  us. 

"This  implies  a  certain  sense  of  the  misery  of  sin.  It  is  that 
our  sinful  lives  do  not  belong  to  and  redound  unto  Him.  That  is 
the  felt  misery  of  the  best  lives  when  they  fall  into  sin.  They 
have  dishonored  God.  They  have  nothing  to  render  Him.  Then 
the  delight  of  His  return,  that  once  more  they  may  do  Him  honor. 

"The  sense  of  exhilaration  which  thus  enters  into  repentance." 

One  of  the  sermons  was  on  the  text,  in  the  Prayer  Book  version, 
"He  brought  down  my  strength  in  my  journey  and  shortened 
my  days."  Another  sermon  was  on  a  verse  from  a  Psalm: 
"I  shall  find  trouble  and  heaviness,  and  I  will  call  upon  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  And  still  another  from  the  words  of  Christ: 
"It  cannot  be  that  a  prophet  perish  out  of  Jerusalem."  In  this 
sermon  he  dwelt  on  the  expenditure  of  energy  for  personal  power 
and  wealth  and  lower  ends, — the  giving  of  life  for  most  unworthy 
things. 

"The  life  must  be  given.  You  must  expend  it.  You  cannot 
keep  it.  It  is  going.  What  is  there  to  show  for  it  at  the  end? 
Is  there  the  result  of  enlarged  spiritual  conditions  in  the  world, 


524  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

so  that  first  we  and  then  our  brethren  are  better  for  our  having 
lived?     He  who  perishes  in  Jerusalem  claims  Jerusalem  for  God." 

Of  the  few  letters  belonging  to  this  moment,  there  is  one  where 
he  gives  his  opinion  regarding  the  distinctive  claims  of  the  Epis- 
copal Church: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  18,  1889. 

"I  do  not  know  a  single  book  about  our  Church  which  does  not 
mingle  with  its  exposition  of  what  the  Church  is  some  notions, 
more  or  less  erroneous,  but  certainly  private  and  personal,  of  the 
author.  Therefore,  I  am  quite  out  of  the  habit  of  asking  any- 
one who  is  at  all  interested  in  our  Church  to  study  anything  but 
the  Prayer  Book.  The  Prayer  Book,  without  note  or  comment, 
interpreting  itself  to  the  intelligent  reader, — that  is  the  best 
thing.  And  histories  of  our  Church  are  also  written  with  a  pur- 
pose. There  is  not  one  which  is  not  colored  with  the  intention 
of  its  writer.  Bishop  White's  History  is  the  best,  and  some  of 
Frederick  D.  Maurice's  Lectures  on  the  Prayer  Book  have  much 
light  in  them.  Let  your  friends  know  that  the  only  real  "claim " 
of  the  Church  is  the  power  with  which  it  claims  their  souls  and 
makes  them  better  men.  Then  offer  them  its  privileges  if  they 
are  humble  and  earnest  enough  to  know  their  need." 

It  had  now  become  apparent  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  seri- 
ously ill.  His  friends  noticed  the  change  in  his  looks  with  alarm. 
The  late  Colonel  Henry  Lee  spoke  what  many  were  feeling  when 
he  wrote  to  him : 

'*  Boston,  May,  3,  1889. 

"I  was  shocked,  as  I  have  been  several  times  of  late,  at  your 
appearance.  Who  am  I,  to  meddle  in  your  affairs?  Only  one 
of  many  more  thousands  than  you  will  ever  know,  to  whom  your 
existence  is  all-important ;  and  as  one  of  them  I  beg  you  earnestly 
to  cease  your  incessant  work  this  very  day  and  depart,  going  by 
sea  or  land  where  you  can  find  rest  and  recreation.  I  wish  I 
knew  who  was  your  physician.  I  would  urge  him  to  order  you 
off  at  once.  If  you  knew  of  what  importance,  not  only  to  your 
church,  but  to  the  college,  to  our  city,  to  all  of  us,  is  your  life, 
you  would  do  what  you  can  to  preserve  it." 

The  place  to  which  he  turned  for  rest  and  change  was  Japan. 
A  conversation  with  Rev.  W.  E.  Griffis,  the  author  of  The 
Mikado's  Empire,  encouraged  him  to  make  the  venture.  He 
read  The  Soul  of  the  Far  East,  by  Mr.  Percival  Lowell.     As  the 


JAPAN  525 

scheme  took  possession  of  his  mind  he  grew  enthusiastic  about 
its  possibilities.  It  added  to  his  pleasure  in  contemplating  the 
journey  that  he  had  secured  his  friend  McVickar  for  a  travelling 
companion.     To  Mr.  McVickar  he  writes : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  20,  1889. 

"I  went  down  to  Salem  and  saw  Professor  Morse,  who  is  the 
biggest  authority  on  Japan  to  be  found  anywhere.  And  such  a 
collection  of  bowls  and  basins,  of  cups  and  candlesticks,  of  jars 
and  jimcracks  as  he  has!  My  mouth  is  watering  and  my  eyes 
are  sparkling  even  now,  in  spite  of  several  Lent  services  which 
have  come  in  between.  But  what  he  says  is  this:  that  Japan  is 
perfectly  possible  in  summer;  that  it  is  very  hot,  but  that  the 
heat  is  not  felt  as  much  as  it  is  here;  that  you  must  wear  the 
thinnest  of  clothing  and  the  strawiest  of  hats,  and  that  it  is  as 
healthy  as  you  please.  He  makes  little  or  nothing  of  the  rainy 
season.  Says  it  rains  worst  in  June  and  September,  but  declares 
that  if  we  reach  there  about  mid-July,  and  leave  to  come  home 
about  September  1,  we  shall  have  royal  weather.  .  .  . 

"Isn't  it  sad  about  ?     Dear  me,  if  that  splendid  fellow 

has  indeed  given  way,  who  of  us  is  there  that  can  be  sure  of  him- 
self for  an  hour?     And  yet  there  are  encouragements  as  well. 

Here  is  getting  engaged  and  starting  out  on  a  new  life 

when  it  seems  as  if  he  would  think  things  were  about  through 
with  him.  He  's  like  the  fellow  who  lights  up  a  new  cigar  just 
when  it  seems  as  if  bedtime  had  really  come.  But  there  is  a 
splendid  courage  about  it,  and  it  almost  makes  one  ready  to  fling 
prudence  to  the  winds  and  go  in  for  it  himself.  But  I  guess  I 
wont,  on  the  whole. 

"I  can  hear  the  chatter  of  Japanese  tongues  and  the  clatter  of 
Japanese  crockery  in  the  distance,  but  just  now  I  must  get  ready 
for  service,  and  so  must  you." 

Mr.  Brooks  left  Boston  on  the  10th  of  June  for  the  ride  across 
the  continent,  breaking  the  journey  at  Salt  Lake  City,  where  he 
spent  a  Sunday,  and  visited  the  Mormon  Tabernacle.  He  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  impressed  by  the  people,  or  their  civili- 
zation. On  the  20th  of  June  he  sailed  from  San  Francisco  for 
Yokohama.  There  were  but  two  passengers  on  board  besides 
himself  and  Dr.  McVickar.  The  eighteen  days  passed  quietly, 
the  ocean  was  calm,  and  the  only  event  which  appealed  to  the 
imagination  was  the  dropping  of  one  day,  Monday,  July  the  1st. 
1 '  The  lost  day !  Think  what  might  have  come  of  it !  The  undone 
deeds !     The  unsaid  words ! " 


526  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

These  are  extracts  from  his  note-book  written  on  shipboard : 

"Difference  between  'a  good  fellow'  and  a  good  man." 

"Preach  on  the  tone  of  life,  high  or  low,  apart  from  special 
acts." 

"Text,  'God  hath  laid  on  Him  the  iniquity  of  us  all.'  The 
way  men  bear  each  other's  sins.  The  great  sinful  world  on  men's 
shoulders.     Ah!  there  's  the  key!     Imagine  that  complete." 

"Those  wise  blinds,  through  which  you  can  see  out,  but  cannot 
see  in." 

"'Thou  hast  wrestled  and  prevailed.'  The  deeper  life.  The 
only  question  left,  How  to  do  one's  duty?  " 

"'I  will  not  do  this  wicked  thing  and  sin  against  God.'  The 
special  definite  resolve." 

"'Unless  the  Lord  build  the  house,  their  labor  is  but  vain 
that  build  it.'     The  inner  spiritual  building  of  everything." 

"'Then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest.'  The  deep  impulse 
of  escape  and  retirement." 

"I  would  like  to  do  one  thing  perfectly,  and  do  only  that  the 
rest  of  my  life.     Yet,  no ! " 

"A  'spent  sea'  in  history,  e.  g.,  the  ages  following  the  seven- 
teenth century." 

"  Like  the  captain's  view  of  things  at  sea,  so  different  from  the 
landsman  passenger's." 

"The  question  whether  all  life  is  to  be  drawn  in, — its  great 
expansion  into  the  supernatural  denied  it.  Intention  for  exten- 
sion.    The  world  it  would  make.     Try  to  depict." 

"'And  the  land  had  rest  fourscore  years.'  The  worth  and 
dangers  of  rest." 

"Awful  the  convulsion  that  does  nothing.  The  beauty  of  our 
war — it  killed  Slavery." 

"What  is  the  greatest,  noblest,  finest  deed  ever  done  on  this 
earth?     What  if  we  could  put  our  finger  on  it!" 


JAPAN  527 

"  Jehoram  '  reigned  in  Jerusalem  eight  years  and  departed  with- 
out being  desired.'     The  being  missed  and  its  natural  desire." 

"'The  Son  can  do  nothing  of  Himself,  but  what  He  seeth  the 
Father  do.'  Christianity  all  in  the  line  of  God's  great  first 
purposes." 

"Coming  in  sight  of  a  new  land  (Japan),  with  its  mysterious 
multitudinous  history,  set  in  the  ancient  halls,  like  coming  in 
sight  of  another  man's  life  with  its  mystery.     July  8,  1889." 

During  the  long  idle  days  of  the  ocean  journey  Mr. 
Brooks  was  writing  Christmas  and  Easter  carols,  for  which  he 
had  a  peculiar  gift.  He  wrote  them  with  ease,  as  if  they  had  long 
been  singing  in  his  heart. 

"  The  silent  stars  are  full  of  speech 

For  who  hath  ears  to  hear; 
The  winds  are  whispering  each  to  each, 
And  stars  their  sacred  lessons  teach 

Of  faith  and  hope  and  fear. 

"But  once  the  sky  its  silence  broke, 
And  song  o'erflowed  the  earth; 
And  Angels  mortal  language  spoke, 
When  God  our  human  utterance  took, 
In  Christ  the  Saviour's  birth." 

This  was  the  first  rapid  sketch  of  one  of  the  Christmas  carols. 
Another  begins  with  the  lines : 

"  The  earth  has  grown  old  with  its  burden  of  care, 
But  at  Christmas  it  always  is  young." 

And  a  third : 

"  Everywhere,  everywhere,  Christmas  to-night  1" 

This  Easter  carol  also,  which  has  become  widely  popular: 

"  Tomb,  thou  shalt  not  hold  Him  longer! 
Death  is  strong,  but  life  is  stronger." 

In  the  letters  from  Japan  Mr.  Brooks  speaks  of  his  journey 
as  a  great  success : 

"I  don't  think  there  can  be  a  place  anywhere  in  the  world 
more  suitable  for  pure  relaxation.  ...  Of  all  bright,  pretty 


528  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

places,  it  is  the  prettiest  and  the  brightest.  ...  It  is  very  fasci- 
nating: the  merriest,  kindest,  and  most  graceful  people,  who 
seem  as  glad  to  see  you  as  if  they  had  been  waiting  for  you  all 
their  years,  and  make  you  feel  as  if  their  houses  were  yours  the 
moment  you  cross  the  threshold,  ...  as  if  good  manners  and 
civility  were  the  only  ends  in  life.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it, 
and  the  fascination  grows  with  every  new  street  picture  that  one 
sees. 

"We  have  had  most  hospitable  welcome  from  American  and 
English  people;  almost  every  night  in  Yokohama  we  dined  out, 
and  here  we  have  been  given  rooms  at  the  club,  which  is  a  Govern- 
ment affair  and  most  comfortable.  To-morrow  night  we  are  to 
dine  with  the  English  Bishop  of  Japan,  and  there  is  more  of 
courtesy  and  kindness  than  we  can  accept." 

While  most  of  the  time  was  spent  in  travelling,  no  opportuni- 
ties were  lost  of  meeting  the  missionaries,  and  learning  of  their 
work.  He  came  across  one  of  the  missionaries  engaged  in  trans- 
lating into  Japanese  Pearson  on  the  Creed,  a  learned  work  of 
Anglican  theology  in  the  seventeenth  century;  and  thought  it 
unwise  to  confuse  the  minds  of  the  Japanese  with  the  technical- 
ities and  processes  through  which  the  Western  mind  had  passed. 
Once  only  did  he  preach. 

He  speaks  of  the  impression  which  he  and  Dr.  McVickar  made 
upon  the  Japanese  by  their  unusual  size.  He  was  afraid  that  the 
jinrikisha  men  would  rebel  at  the  burden,  but  that  happened 
only  once.  The  Japanese  were  curious  to  get  the  measurements 
of  the  head  and  hands  and  feet  of  their  extraordinary  guest. 
The  children  called  him  Daibutsu, — the  image  of  the  great 
Buddha. 

"Kioto,  August  i,  1889. 

"I  am  anxious  to  send  you  all  at  least  one  greeting  from  this 
queer  and  interesting  land,  and  I  must  do  it  quick  or  not  at  all, 
for  our  short  time  here  is  half  exhausted  and  the  next  steamer 
but  one  will  carry  us  to  San  Francisco.  The  journey  has  been  a 
great  success  thus  far,  and  here  we  are  perched  on  a  breezy  hill 
just  outside  of  the  brightest  and  gayest  of  Japanese  cities,  with 
such  a  view  of  the  confused  and  jumbled  town  and  the  high  hills 
beyond  as  not  many  city  suburbs  can  furnish.  It  is  a  hot,  swel- 
tering afternoon.  All  the  morning  we  have  been  looking  at 
Mikado's  Palaces  and  Buddhist  Temples,  dragged  in  jinrikishas 
through  picturesque  and  crowded  streets  by  trotting  coolies  who 
must  remember  us  and  hate  us  all  the  rest  of  their  miserable  lives. 


JAPAN  529 

Now  in  the  quiet  afternoon  there  is  a  pleasant  wind  blowing 
across  the  hotel  veranda,  and  all  the  time  there  comes  the  monot- 
onous and  soothing  music  of  a  Buddhist  drum  which  a  poor 
priest  is  beating  at  the  Temple  close  to  us,  and  which  never  seems 
to  pause  an  instant  from  the  sun's  rising  to  its  setting.  It  is  all 
as  calm  and  beautiful  and  different  from  Boston  as  anything  can 
be.  The  bamboos  are  waving  gracefully  in  the  foreground  and 
the  pines  are  standing  majestically  behind.  Japan  is  rich  in 
both,  and  they  are  pictures  of  the  way  in  which  strength  and 
grace  meet  in  her  history  remarkably. 

"We  are  now  in  our  fourth  week  on  shore,  and  indeed  I  do  not 
know  how  any  one  could  make  for  himself  a  more  delightful  sum- 
mer than  by  doing  just  what  we  have  done.  A  swift  run  across 
the  continent,  a  slow  and  peaceful  sail  on  the  Pacific,  and  then 
this  phantasmagoria  of  color  and  life  and  movement  for  six  de- 
lightful weeks.  And  then  the  return  over  the  familiar  ways  with 
much  to  think  about  and  one's  brain  full  of  pictures.  What  could 
be  better  than  that  ? " 

On  the  return  voyage  he  resumed  his  note-book: 

"The  strange  personalness  of  a  new  land;  becoming  'ac- 
quainted' with  it." 

"As  the  Japanese  build  their  houses  to  suit  their  mats." 

"The  Japanese  smiling  as  he  tells  of  his  mother's  death." 

"Japan  strangely  self-conscious.  Lack  of  sense  of  individu- 
ality in  the  East." 

"'Why  pluckest  thou  not  thy  right  hand  out  of  thy  bosom  to 
consume  the  enemy  ? '  The  apparent  indifference  of  God.  What 
is  God's  enemy?" 

"The  thing  which  is  done  upon  earth,  He  doeth  it  Himself." 

"Both  engine  and  brake.  Conservatism  and  radicalism  parts 
of  the  same  machine." 

"Sermon  on  a  man's  discovering  a  meanness  in  himself  from 
which  he  thought  he  was  free  (coming  from  new  circumstances, 
e.  g.,  travelling)." 

"Sermon  on  outgrowing  temptations,  falsely  made  cause  for 
complacency.  Like  passing  railway  stations;  the  new  ones  are 
the  old  ones  under  new  forms." 


53°  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"The  ultimate  mystery  of  life  is  personality.     All  which  stops 
short  of  that  is  partial." 

"The  spider  spins  his  web  in  the  rice-pot.     Japanese  phrase  for 
poverty." 

"You  might  as  well  think  to  help  the  moon  fighting  its  battle 
with  the  clouds." 

"The  balance  and  co-operation  of  content  and  discontent." 

"A  law,  a  truth,  an  institution,  a  Person.     Which  is  Chris- 
tianity?    There  can  be  no  doubt." 

"The  East  haunted  by  the  problems  of  reality  and  apparition 
as  well  as  by  that  of  personality  and  impersonality." 

"The  present  with  the  future  on  its  back,  like  a  Japanese 
mother  and  her  child." 

"Sermon  on  the  variety  of  aspect  of  religion  in  the  various  ages 
of  life, — youth's  activity  and  middle  age." 

"The  rising  tide  catching  one  against  a  precipitous  wall.  Es- 
cape impossible." 

"If  we  hope  for  that  we  have  not,  then  we  work  for  it." 

" '  Get  thee  behind  me.'  The  everlasting  word  to  the  tempter. 
Who  cannot  say  it,  dies." 

"Lives  haunted  like  houses." 

"The  Shinto  (ancestor- worship)  of  Boston." 

"Losing  a  Tuesday  going  over  and  picking  up  a  Thursday 
coming  back, — August  28,  1889,  lived  twice  on  the  Pacific." 

"Pride  before  destruction.  The  great  danger  of  boasting. 
Our  liability  to  the  sins  from  which  we  think  ourselves  most 
secure." 

"A  man's  suffering  till  the  consequences  of  his  sin  are 
exhausted." 

"'There  is  nothing  hidden  that  shall  not  be  revealed'  neither 


JAPAN  531 

hid  that  shall  not  be  known.'      The  kind  of  world  that  perfect 
light  shall  make,  and  the  kind  of  life  in  waiting  for  it." 

"The  impressions  of  nature,  the  truths  of  science,  all  less  than 
personal  relations.  The  only  final  means  of  revelation.  Recon- 
ciliation. The  secret  of  Christ.  God  sent  forth  His  Son.  Two 
kinds  of  religion, — truth  and  person.  All  religions  develop 
both.     Love  and  faith  are  the  powers." 

"Houses  for  earthquake,  built  either  very  slight  or  very  solid." 

"R.  S.  V.  P.     So  says  nature  with  her  invitations." 

"A  man  behind  whose  closed  eyelids  light  and  darkness  show 
their  difference,  though  he  can  distinctly  see  no  object." 

"The  latitude  and  longitude  of  life." 

" '  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life.'     Christ  the  key  of  existence,  not  Buddha,  nor  any  other." 

"The  Japanese  giving  a  new  name  at  the  time  of  death.  The 
new  name  of  the  new  life  kept  hung  up  in  the  sacred  place  of  the 
house." 

"'While  I  am  coming  another  steppeth  in  before  me.'  Com- 
petition,— its  naturalness  and  unnaturalness ;  its  advantages  and 
horrors.     Sure  to  be  some  day  outgrown." 

"Mark  iii.,  21.  Christ's  friends,  not  His  enemies,  said,  'He  is 
beside  Himself,'  and  wanted  to  restrain  Him.  The  limitations 
that  Christians  put  to  Christ." 

"Mark  v.,  7.  The  demoniac  crying  out,  'What  have  I  to  do 
with  thee,  Jesus?'  But  Jesus  shows  that  he  has  something  to 
do  with  the  Son  of  God." 

"He  shall  save  his  soul  alive." 

"Ashamed  of  himself.     Filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God." 

"  Evening  and  morning  were  the  first  day.  Ending  and  begin- 
ning everywhere." 

"A  man  in  Christ." 

By  the  middle  of  September  Mr.  Brooks  was  again  in  Boston, 


532  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

and  had  resumed  his  work.  In  Japan  he  had  been  far  from  well, 
and  his  enjoyment  of  what  he  saw,  or  of  the  hospitalities  extended 
to  him,  had  in  consequence  been  diminished.  He  was  better, 
however,  than  if  he  had  tried  to  spend  "a  lazy  summer"  at 
home,  as  he  at  one  time  proposed  to  do.  To  the  world  he  seemed 
vigorous  and  strong,  or,  as  one  of  his  friends  abroad  wrote  to  him, 
"the  happiest  and  hopefullest  man  I  know." 

At  Trinity  Church,  the  first  Sunday  after  his  return,  he 
spoke  of  God's  ownership  of  the  world,  as  giving  it  beauty  and 
value:  "The  earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the  fulness  thereof;  the 
world  and  they  that  dwell  therein."  With  what  interest  he  was 
followed  is  shown  in  this  extract  from  a  daily  paper : 

"As  he  passed  quietly  in  to  begin  the  service  he  looked  and 
moved  with  all  his  old-time  vigor,  although  some  might  fancy 
that  his  massive  frame  betrayed  an  appreciable  loss  of  flesh.  A 
slight  cough,  too,  was  also  noticed  during  the  reciting  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  service.  To  the  friends  who  embraced  an  opportu- 
nity to  greet  him,  he  manifested  his  unvarying  cheerfulness  and 
vivacity.  It  was  in  the  pulpit,  as  always,  that  he  appeared  with 
all  the  fulness  of  his  personality  and  mental  powers,  and  when  he 
spoke  it  was  with  a  torrent  of  language  and  abounding  imagery 
that  seemed  to  have  gathered  even  more  than  the  customary 
momentum  from  contact  with  the  Oriental  glow  of  life  and  scenes. 
Whether  from  association  with  these,  or  from  the  feelings  evoked 
by  return  to  the  family  of  his  congregation,  he  supplemented  his 
unsurpassed  rapidity  of  thought  and  utterance  with  more  than  his 
usual  emotional  quality." 

On  the  second  Sunday  after  his  return  he  went  to  Cambridge 
to  address  the  students  at  the  opening  of  a  new  year  of  college 
life.  He  spoke  of  the  new  system  of  voluntary  prayers  as  no 
longer  an  experiment.  "  Hitherto  there  had  been  a  certain  self- 
consciousness  about  it  which  it  was  now  time  to  drop.  It  was 
the  legitimate  successor  of  all  the  best  religious  influence."  He 
urged  upon  the  students  to  give  their  best  to  the  college  if  they 
would  get  its  best  in  return;  "treat  it  not  as  a  pla}''ground  or 
living-shop,  but  as  a  living  being  with  a  soul  caring  for  spiritual 
nature,  and  it  will  bestow  its  riches,  for  indeed  it  has  them."  The 
address  was  noticeable  for  its  intense  earnestness.  His  love  for 
Harvard  came  out  in  a  few  sentences  at  its  close.  "Many  noble 
men  have  rejoiced  to  live  for  the  college,  asking  nothing  as  they 


PARISH  MINISTRY  533 

grew  old  but  to  do  something  more  for  her  before  they  died. 
Will  you  join  their  army?  What  she  asks  of  you  is  to  be  as 
full  men  as  you  can,  for  so  her  life  grows  fuller." 

The  General  Convention  met  in  New  York  in  October,  when 
he  was  the  guest  of  his  brother  Arthur.  He  took  part  in  the 
discussions  on  the  revision  of  the  Prayer  Book,  urging  the  sub- 
stitution of  Psalm  lxiv  for  Psalm  lxix  in  the  Evening  Prayer 
for  Good  Friday.  "We  listen  to  Jesus  crying,  ' Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do,'  and  then  proceed  at 
once  to  say,  '  Let  their  table  be  made  a  snare,  to  take  themselves 
withal,' "  etc. 

In  a  proposed  canon  on  marriage  and  divorce  Mr.  Brooks 
objected  to  a  phrase  forbidding  "clandestine  marriages":  "If 
we  are  to  forbid  a  thing,  we  must  have  some  penalty  for  its 
disobedience,  which  in  this  case  would  obviously  be  exclusion 
from  Holy  Communion."  He  should  feel  himself  unable  to 
deny  the  sacrament  to  people  who  in  their  youth  had  been 
indiscreet  enough  to  make  a  clandestine  marriage.  "There  is  a 
danger  of  making  marriage  too  difficult."  The  subject  of  "di- 
vorce" had  been  in  his  mind  as  he  was  returning  home  from 
Japan.     In  his  note-book  he  expresses  hints  of  his  opinion: 

"The  'putting  away'  which  Christ  condemned  was  not  the 
equivalent  of  our  present  divorce  system;  it  was  purely  arbitrary, 
with  no  trial  or  opportunity  of  defence,  the  man's  right  only, 
while  the  woman  had  no  corresponding  power;  it  was  originally 
for  some  cause  which  includes  more  than  adultery,  and  it  al- 
lowed remarriage  (Deut.  xxiv.,  2).  Our  divorce  is  a  different 
matter,  involving  different  necessities.  The  Mosaic  institution 
which  Christ  modified  had  reference  to  inheritance  and  preserva- 
tion of  purity  of  descent.  There  are  strong  objections  to  using 
the 'Holy  Communion  for  enforcing  a  position  on  this  subject, 
especially  in  the  matter  of  its  administration  to  the  dying,  in 
view  of  the  perfect  conscience  with  which  divorces  are  obtained. 
It  would  be  more  consistent  to  deny  divorces  altogether.  But 
the  whole  question  is  not  a  clear  one,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
Christian  nations  have  so  differed  regarding  it  and  so  differ  still. 
Circumstances  have  changed  since  the  time  of  Christ.  The  spirit 
is  more  than  the  letter." 

On  his  return  from  the  General  Convention,  Mr.  Brooks 
preached  a  sermon  at  Trinity  Church  more  hopeful  in  its  tone 


534  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

than  his  sermon  in  1886.  He  reviewed  its  results  in  a  kindly  way, 
declaring  himself  not  altogether  in  sympathy  with  the  changes 
made  in  the  Prayer  Book,  but  speaking  of  the  Convention  as  an 
inspiring  one  in  its  manifestation  of  high  moral  purpose,  in  it& 
desire  for  Christian  unity,  its  zeal  for  missionary  work.  He  went 
to  the  Episcopalian  Club,  where  the  Convention  was  the  subject 
of  discussion,  making  a  speech  which  pleased  its  members  and 
was  pronounced  by  some  to  be  "churchly."  He  was  apparently 
forgiven  for  what  he  had  said  of  the  Convention  of  1886.  He 
was  so  genuine,  so  rational,  so  human,  that  forgiveness  was  not 
difficult  to  grant. 

Some  of  the  sermons  of  Phillips  Brooks  at  this  time  were 
notable  for  the  advocacy  of  social  and  political  reforms.  On  Fast 
Day  he  discussed  the  public  schools  and  prohibition.  In 
regard  to  the  first  he  maintained  that  the  state  has  incorporated 
its  best  ideas  in  the  public  schools,  the  three  essentials  of  char- 
acter without  which  a  state  cannot  exist — freedom,  intelligence, 
and  responsibility.  Not  only  the  right  of  the  state,  but  its  duty 
in  this  matter  of  primary  education,  must  be  boldly  maintained. 
If  scholars  were  to  be  withdrawn  from  the  public  schools  into 
private  institutions,  the  state  must  assert  its  prerogative  and 
enforce  on  them  its  principles,  insisting  that  they  shall  be  the 
equals  of  the  public  schools  in  cultivating  freedom,  intelligence, 
and  responsibility. 

On  the  subject  of  prohibition  he  declared  his  preference  for 
restrictive  legislation,  on  the  ground  that  it  gave  the  opportunity 
for  self-control.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  his  interest  in  the  end 
to  be  attained  was  so  real  that  he  could  say: 

' '  I  have  no  charge  or  reproach  to  make  against  the  most  ex- 
travagant temperance  reformer.  I  can  understand  the  intensity 
of  his  feeling,  which  urges  the  most  sweeping  laws  which  he  can 
secure.  But  it  seems  to  me  that,  instead  of  legal  restriction,  the 
great  advance  in  this  direction  is  to  arouse  the  conscience  of  the 
people  to  live  for  the  state  and  for  their  fellow-men,  and  not  for 
themselves ;  to  let  no  selfish  desire  stand  in  the  way  of  any  rea- 
sonable measure  which  shall  help  to  overcome  this  evil.  It  does 
no  good  to  champion  this  or  that  public  measure  while  as  yet 
our  own  hearts  and  consciences  are  untouched.  In  this  as  in 
similar  matters  it  is  very  easy  for  intense  earnestness  to  develop 
into  mere  partisanship,  in  which  condition  we  oppose  all  plans 


CIVIL  SERVICE  REFORM  53  5 

which  do  not  harmonize  with  our  own,  even  though  they  may 
contain  much  good.  Rather  let  us  keep  ourselves  pure  and 
broad,  ready  to  accept  any  truest  and  best  method  by  which  at 
the  time  our  purpose  may  be  achieved." 

He  preached  a  sermon  on  Civil  Service  Reform,  in  response  to 
a  request  that  the  clergy  would  treat  the  subject  from  their  pul- 
pits. The  sermon  showed  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  nationality 
and  to  the  principles  of  a  republican  form  of  government.  The 
text  was  from  the  Old  Testament,  "Ye  shall  be  unto  me  a  king- 
dom of  priests  and  a  holy  nation.  These  are  the  words  that  thou 
shalt  speak  unto  the  kingdom  of  Israel"  (Exodus  xix.,  6).  That 
one  should  take  a  text  from  the  Old  Testament  for  civil  service 
reform  might  appear  to  some,  he  said,  as  evidence  of  the  incom- 
petence of  the  clergy  to  deal  with  living  political  issues. 

"The  old  reproach  of  ministers  that  they  lived  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  preached  about  the  sins  and  virtues  of  the  patriarchs, 
and  not  about  the  sins  and  virtues  of  the  modern  world,  is  per- 
haps obsolete.  It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  ask  how  far  it  was 
ever  deserved.  That  which  it  most  concerns  us  to  observe  about 
it  is  the  misconception  which  it  indicated,  on  the  part  both  of 
preachers  and  of  hearers,  of  the  true  place  and  use  of  that  won- 
derful portion  of  the  word  of  God  in  which  the  story  of  God's 
dealings  with  his  chosen  people  is  related.  The  history  of  the 
Jews  appeared  to  some  men  to  be  an  utterly  outgrown,  uninter- 
esting record  of  a  people  who  perished  as  a  nation  centuries  ago, 
and  the  constant  recurrence  to  it  seemed  to  be  a  hopeless  effort 
artificially  to  keep  alive  the  dead.  To  other  men  it  seemed  as  if 
many,  at  least,  if  not  all,  of  the  details  of  Jewish  life  were  of  per- 
petual obligation,  patterns  to  be  mechanically  copied  and  re- 
peated to  the  end  of  time." 

He  spoke  of  the  Old  Testament  as  the  "authoritative  text-book 
of  nationality,"  despite  failures  to  enforce  its  teaching  in  Chris- 
tian history,  as  in  the  notion  of  the  divine  right  of  kings,  or  in 
Puritan  attempts  to  make  the  law  of  Moses  the  law  of  God  for 
modern  life.  "God,  may  we  not  say,  was  too  present  with  His 
modern  world  to  let  them  treat  Him  as  if  He  had  died  two  thou- 
sand years  ago."  But  the  thought  of  the  Old  Testament  lives 
on.  The  nation  is  sacred  and  struggles  to  assert  its  sacredness. 
"At  the  moment  when  it  almost  seemed  as  if  the  notion  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  state  had  perished,  and  nations  were  coming  to 


536  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

be  regarded  as  only  joint  stock  companies  for  mutual  advantage, 
— there  has  come  this  wonderful  thing,  the  sacredness  of  human 
life,  standing  up  and  demanding  recognition  ": 

"Republican  government  is  open  to  the  influx  of  the  essential 
sacredness  of  human  life  itself." 

"The  essential  nature  of  humanity  is  so  divine  that  every  effort 
of  man  after  self-government  is  a  true  echo  of  the  life  of  God." 

"The  simplest  republic  is  sacred  as  no  most  splendid  monarchy 
could  ever  be." 

"The  divinity  which  used  to  hedge  a  king  fills  all  the  sacred  life 
of  a  free  people." 

"  Not  down  from  above  by  arbitrary  decree,  but  up  from  below, 
out  from  within  by  essential  necessity,  proceeds  the  warrant  of 
authority." 

"The  sacredness  of  man,  of  the  individual  man;  the  cultivation, 
not  the  repression,  of  his  personality;  individualism  not  institu- 
tionalism;  institutions  only  for  the  free  characteristic  develop- 
ment of  the  individual, — those  are  the  tokens  of  healthy  life,  the 
watchwords  of  true  progress." 

"A  state  in  which  the  people  rule  themselves  is  able  to  realize 
the  sacredness  of  the  nation  more  profoundly  than  any  other." 

"Popular  government  is  not  the  last  desperate  hope  of  man, 
undertaken  because  everything  else  has  failed.  It  is  the  consum- 
mation toward  which  every  previous  experiment  of  man  has 
struggled.  It  is  no  reckless  slipping  down  into  the  depth  of 
anarchy.  It  is  a  climbing  to  the  mountain  top  of  legitimate 
authority." 

"The  public  officer  embodies  the  nation's  character,  expresses 
its  spirit  and  its  sanctity.  The  public  servant  is  not  simply  a 
man  hired  by  the  state  to  do  a  certain  work.  He  is  the  state 
itself  doing  that  work  and  so  making  manifest  at  one  point  its 
intrinsic  life  and  character." 

"Is  popular  government  naturally  disposed  to  corruption  and 
misrule,  and  so  must  you  force  upon  it  against  its  nature  an  integ- 
rity and  unselfishness  which  it  instinctively  hates  and  despises, 
or  is  it  the  constant  struggle  of  popular  government  to  bring  its 
best  men  to  power,  and  have  you  only  to  work  in  confederation 
with  that  struggle  and  against  the  enemies  which  hinder  its 
success?" 

"To  make  America  to  be  more  truly  American,  with  a  pro- 
founder  faith  in  and  loyalty  to  herself,  to  resist  any  attempt  to 
impose  the  will  of  a  man  or  a  party  on  the  free  action  of  Ameri- 
cans, this  sums  up  the  duty  of  every  reformer  who  believes  that, 
thus  strengthened  and  set  free,  America  will  of  her  own  nature 
send  forth  her  own  true  governors." 


CIVIL  SERVICE  REFORM  537 

He  shared  in  the  prevailing  sense  of  anxiety  about  the  country 
prevalent  at  the  time: 

"We  cannot  forget  the  stress  and  strain  to  which,  as  all  men 
feel,  the  whole  system  of  human  government,  popular  govern- 
ment like  every  other,  is  evidently  in  the  near  future  of  the  world 
to  be  subjected.  We  believe  in  our  institutions  as  we  believe  in 
a  strong  ship  in  which  we  sail  out  upon  the  sea.  But  we  cannot 
look  forth  upon  the  sea  on  which  we  are  to  sail  and  not  behold  it 
black  with  threatening  storms.  We  are  full  of  faith  that  the 
good  ship  will  weather  them,  but  what  fools  we  are  unless  we 
look  not  merely  to  the  soundness  of  the  timbers  which  compose 
her  structure,  but  also  to  the  character  of  her  officers  and  crew! 
In  the  great  trial  of  popular  institutions  which  is  coming,  the 
most  critical  of  all  questions  concerning  them  will  be  as  to  their 
power  to  control  their  own  leadership  and  to  express  the  better 
and  stronger,  and  not  the  worse  and  weaker,  portions  of  their  life 
through  those  whom  the  nation  calls  from  the  mass  of  her  citizens 
and  sets  in  public  stations." 

During  the  month  of  November  Mr.  Brooks  was  conducting 
prayers  at  Harvard,  but  he  did  not  enjoy  it  as  in  previous  years. 
He  spoke  of  it  as  "distinctly  an  off-term,"  intimating  that  the 
sound  of  his  voice  had  grown  familiar  and  tiresome.  For  what- 
ever reason  he  seemed  disappointed,  and  at  moments  inclined  to 
dreary  forebodings  about  the  future. 

To  an  invitation  from  Rev.  Lyman  Abbott  to  take  part  in  the 
services  of  his  installation  as  pastor  of  Plymouth  Church,  he 
wrote  the  following  letter: 

"Wadsworth  House,  Cambridge,  December  2,  1889. 

"Dear  Mr.  Abbott, —  ...  I  thank  you  for  the  friendly  im- 
pulse which  made  you  wish  that  I  should  come  and  take  any 
part  in  the  most  interesting  service  of  your  installation.  I  value 
that  impulse  of  yours  very  deeply,  and  I  always  shall.  I  may 
most  frankly  say  that  there  is  no  man  from  whom  I  should  more 
joyfully  receive  such  a  token  of  confidence  and  affection. 

"I  should  like  exceedingly  to  come.  I  would  make  every  effort 
to  do  so.  There  is  nothing,  I  am  sure,  in  any  canon  or  rubric 
which  would  prevent  my  coming.  I  am  not  very  wise  in  rubrics 
or  canons,  but  I  do  not  remember  one  which  says  a  word  about 
our  ministers  sitting  in  Congregational  councils.  ...  As  to  the 
function  of  a  member  of  an  ordaining  council,  I  am  disgrace- 
fully ignorant.     I  have  been  nothing  but  an  Episcopalian  all  my 


538  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

life.     What  does  an  installer  do,  I  wonder?     And  what  would 
the  Congregationalists  say  when  they  saw  me  there? 

"Would  it  not  be  better  that  I  should  come,  if  possible,  and 
utter  the  interest  which  I  really  deeply  feel  by  giving  out  a  hymn 
or  reading  a  lesson  from  Scripture  at  the  installation  service? 
And  then,  if  at  the  last  moment,  something  here  made  it  impos- 
sible for  me  to  come,  perhaps  another  man  might  do  my  impor- 
tant duty  in  my  place,  and  I  should  be  with  you  in  spirit  and  bid 
you  godspeed  all  the  same.  ..." 

"  Ever  faithfully  yours, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

In  the  first  week  in  December  he  took  part  in  the  meetings  of 
the  Evangelical  Alliance,  which  held  its  session  in  Boston.  One 
evening  was  assigned  to  him,  when  he  made  an  address  occupy- 
ing nearly  an  hour  in  its  delivery.  His  speech  has  been  published 
in  the  proceedings  of  the  society,  where,  in  its  intensity  and 
tumultuousness,  it  still  excites  the  reader.  He  travelled  over 
the  field  of  theology,  co-ordinating  his  beliefs  with  the  cen- 
tral truth  that  every  man  is  the  child  of  God.  He  was  careful 
to  have  it  understood  in  his  opening  remarks  that  he  had  not 
chosen  his  subject, — "The  Need  of  Enthusiasm  for  Humanity"; 
but  if  he  could  have  chosen,  there  was  no  subject  upon  which  he 
would  have  desired  more  to  speak.  He  recalled  the  origin  of  the 
expression  by  the  author  of  Ecce  Homo.  It  had  originally  been 
defined  as  "the  love  of  humanity  grounded  in  the  conviction 
that  Christ  is  the  type  and  ideal  of  every  man."  This  he  had 
believed  and  had  preached;  but,  according  to  his  own  defini- 
tion, "  the  enthusiasm  for  humanity  is  based  upon  the  conviction 
which  Christ  implanted,  that  every  man  is  the  child  of  God."  He 
seemed  to  go  beyond  himself  in  the  fiery  zeal  of  his  earnestness 
as  he  enforced  this  principle  in  all  its  implications.  One  passage 
may  be  cited: 

"Do  I  believe  that  Jonathan  Edwards,  when  he  has  told  me 
about  the  power  and  the  majesty  of  the  divine  will,  has  told  me 
the  whole  truth?  Do  I  believe,  on  the  other  hand,  that  Chan- 
ning,  when  he  has  told  me  of  the  purity  and  dignity  of  human 
nature,  has  told  me  the  whole  truth?  God,  revealed  to  me  by 
the  deepest  thoughts  of  those  who  have  lost  themselves  in  His 
existence ;  man,  revealed  to  me  by  the  deep  and  tender  utterances 
of  those  who  have  lived  in  supreme  sympathy  with  him!  God 
and  man,  shall  they  stand  separate?     It  is  the  Christ,  the  God- 


ENTHUSIASM  FOR  HUMANITY     539 

man  that  I  see.  The  great  Christ-truth  of  the  Sonship  of  man 
to  God  takes  possession  of  these  things  which  have  been  frag- 
ments, as  we  have  heard  this  afternoon,  and  blends  them  in  their 
glorious  whole.  We  have  feared  that  man  should  be  a  traitor  to 
God.  There  is  great  danger  also, — who  shall  measure  dangers 
where  they  are  all  so  tremendous  ? — there  is  vast  danger  lest  man 
be  a  traitor  to  man. 

We  trace  the  working  of  his  mind  in  some  brief  hints  of  his 
Christmas  sermon  on  the  text,  "  Hast  thou  not  known,  hast  thou 
not  heard,  that  the  everlasting  God,  the  Lord,  the  Creator  of  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary?  There  is  no 
searching  of  His  understanding." 

"The  greatest  is  the  kindest  and  the  dearest.  Tendency  to 
run  to  the  little  in  our  religion.  The  great  landscapes,  the  great 
thoughts  suitable  for  Christmas  time.  Their  belonging  to  all 
men  makes  them  more  and  not  less  truly  yours.  The  dear  earth 
and  dear  sky.  Dear  humanity.  It  is  not  relative  size,  but  true 
relationship  that  makes  the  grip.  Ask  yourself  if  your  largest 
were  not  most  sympathetic." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

1890. 

SPEECH  AT  THE  CHAMBER  OF  COMMERCE.  LENTEN  AD- 
DRESSES IN  TRINITY  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK.  CHANGE 
IN    MANNER    OF     PREACHING.  CORRESPONDENCE. 

ADDRESS  AT  THE  CHURCH  CONGRESS.       THANKSGIV- 
ING SERMON. 

With  the  coming  of  1890  we  enter  upon  the  last  year  in  the 
parish  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks.  All  his  years  seem  great, 
yet  this  stands  out  in  some  respects  the  greatest  of  them  all.  It 
was  not  that  the  incidents  of  his  life  were  more  striking  than  in 
previous  years,  but  the  life  itself  seems  greater  and  more  impres- 
sive. He  had  reached  the  age  of  fifty-four,  and  had  kept  the 
thirtieth  anniversary  of  his  ordination.  Twenty-one  years  had 
gone  by  since  he  became  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church.  He  had 
attained  the  simplicity  for  which  he  had  aspired  and  struggled. 
Intellectual  difficulties  about  religion  or  the  world  process  had 
ceased  to  embarrass  him.  He  had  one  theme,  the  sacredness, 
the  beauty,  the  glory  of  life,  and  that  because  all  men  were  the 
children  of  God,  and  Christ  was  the  eternal  Son.  This  one  theme 
ramified  into  a  thousand  variations,  as  the  theme  in  nature  is 
simple,  but  inexhaustible  in  its  beauty  and  variety.  Whenever 
he  spoke,  the  subject  was  new,  and  this  sense  of  freshness  and 
novelty  was  contagious.  Wherever  he  went,  whatever  might  be 
the  occasion,  he  lifted  his  banner  whereon  was  written  the  sacred- 
ness and  the  possibilities  of  life.  This  was  his  work,  to  recall 
men  to  their  spiritual  environment,  to  remind  them  of  their  spir- 
itual heritage,  and  show  them  its  content.  He  quotes  in  his 
note-book  the  words  of  Scbleiermacher:  "Now  this  is  just  my 
vocation, — to  represent  more  clearly  that  which  dwells  in  all 
true  human  beings,  and  to  bring  it  home  to  their  consciousness." 

540 


PARISH  MINISTRY  541 

But  what  seemed  to  rise  above  every  other  characteristic  of  his 
preaching  or  his  conversation  was  the  inextinguishable  and  bound- 
less hope.  He  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  daunted  by  any 
circumstances  of  life  in  proclaiming  the  salvation  by  hope. 
Amidst  voices  of  despair,  or  the  wailings  of  misery,  or  the  mani- 
festations of  indifference  which  surged  about  him  striving  to 
silence  or  drown  his  utterance,  his  voice  rose  above  them  all, 
proclaiming  hope  and  the  blessedness  of  life  itself,  the  sacredness 
of  humanity  and  its  legitimate  interests.  Nor  was  it  that  he  did 
not  see  the  evil,  the  misery,  and  the  sin.  More  than  most  men 
was  he  called  into  contact  with  suffering  and  with  sorrow  in  their 
pathetic  and  tragic  forms.  Ministrations  to  the  sick  and  dying, 
to  those  in  mourning,  filled  up  his  days.  His  gift  of  consolation 
was  in  perpetual  exercise.  The  more  hideous  forms  of  evil,  the 
evidences  of  vice,  lives  from  which  the  light  had  gone  out, — with 
these  things  he  was  familiar.  There  were  his  own  sorrows  and 
disappointments,  experiences  of  which  he  spoke  to  no  one;  the 
growing  loneliness — "If  any  man  knows  what  loneliness  is,  I  do," 
he  once  said  of  himself ;  misgivings  about  his  health ;  the  feeling 
that  youth  was  departing  and  with  it  might  be  lost  the  freshness 
of  his  outlook  on  life;  the  possibility  that  he  might  not  live  to 
see  what  life  would  soon  reveal, — these  combined  to  raise  their 
varying  strains  of  hopelessness  and  sadness;  and  still  the 
faith  that  was  in  him  soared  above  the  discordance  and  confusion, 
proclaiming  hope,  and  joy,  and  always  cheerfulness  as  the  word 
of  God  to  man.  He  had  to  fight  harder,  it  may  be,  to  retain  his 
faith,  but  for  this  reason  it  grew  stronger  and  more  secure. 
His  conviction  deepened  that  the  world  had  been  redeemed 
and  glorified  in  Christ.  In  the  light  of  this  redemption  it 
grew  fairer  and  richer  and  life  more  attractive,  till  it  almost 
pained  him  to  address  young  men  with  the  prospect  before  them 
of  a  vision  he  could  not  live  to  see.  He  was  not  a  philosopher 
in  the  conventional  meaning  of  the  term,  but  in  its  larger  and 
truer  sense  he  had  gained  what  philosophy  could  give.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  line  of  philosophical  thought  beyond  the  range 
of  his  endeavor  to  comprehend  and  adjust  in  a  large  scheme  of 
the  world's  order.  What  others  were  thinking  he  was  feeling  and 
living.  He  was  not  a  professed  student  of  philosophical  systems, 
yet  he  inquired  of  them;  and  he  seemed  to  know  what  they 


542  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

stood  for  in  relation  to  the  world  problem.  He  was  an  idealist 
with  Plato.  With  Aristotle  he  rejoiced  in  the  world  as  it  is. 
With  Kant  he  lived  in  the  human  consciousness.  There  are 
hints  of  the  Berkeleian  principle,  as  well  as  reminders  of  Hegel's 
ruling  idea.  He  retained  his  youthful  devotion  to  Bacon  in  the 
glorification  of  the  world  of  outward  nature,  while  in  Lotze  he 
found  a  check  for  the  one-sidedness  of  the  purely  intellectual  esti- 
mate of  things.  He  still  retained  the  vision  of  his  youth,  when 
he  saw  the  world  transfigured  as  by  Neoplatonic  reverie;  but  he 
overcame  its  error  and  weakness  by  giving  the  central  place  in 
thought  and  life  to  the  Incarnation,  thus  gaining  unity  and  sim- 
plicity, the  power  of  the  personal  Christ  as  the  bond  of  union 
with  God.  He  held  the  truth  of  the  immanence  of  God,  in  na- 
ture and  in  humanity,  uniting  with  it  the  personality  of  God  in 
His  distinctness  from  both,  whose  personal  will  was  the  final 
explanation  of  all  the  issues  of  life  and  thought. 

In  the  various  addresses  he  made,  or  in  the  sermons  preached, 
these  features  of  his  thought  may  be  traced.  Thus,  in  January, 
he  spoke  to  the  merchants  of  Boston  at  a  banquet  of  the  Cham- 
ber of  Commerce,  when  his  speech  was  the  amplification  of 
the  words  of  Bacon:  "Not  for  gold,  or  silver,  or  precious  stones 
was  commerce  instituted,  not  for  silks  or  spices,  nor  for  any  other 
of  those  crude  ends  at  which  thou  aimest,  but  first  and  only  for 
the  child  of  God,  that  is  to  say,  for  light."  He  began  his  address 
by  remarking  that  it  was  a  privilege  "to  sit  in  the  midst  of  a 
multitude  of  merchants  and  see  the  modern  look  in  their  faces 
and  catch  the  modern  tone  in  their  voices;  it  is  the  merchant 
to-day  who  holds  the  reins  and  bears  the  responsibility  of  life." 
This  was  the  report  of  his  speech : 

"Let  it  be  our  place  to  rejoice  that  the  world  had  not  fulfilled 
itself, — that  man,  so  marvellously  mysterious  as  he  was,  evi- 
dently was  beginning  to  realize  that  he  had  not  begun  to  display 
the  power  that  was  in  him.  And  let  us  take  up  boldly  the  respon- 
sibility which  belonged  to  his  enlarged  outlook.  The  one  thing 
that  grew  upon  him  as  he  grew  older,  he  said,  was  the  mysterious- 
ness  of  human  life  and  the  absolutely  unfulfilled  powers  that 
were  in  humankind.  His  one  great  assurance  was  that  the  world 
was  bound  to  press  onward  and  find  an  escape  from  the  things 
that  terrified  it,  not  by  retreat,  but  by  a  perpetual  progress  into 
the  large  calm  that  lay  beyond.     The  very  things  that  made 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  543 

men  hesitate,  fear,  and  dread  were  the  things  in  which  we  most 
rejoiced,  and  which  we  could  not  possibly  surrender.  .  .  . 

"  Let  us  look  forward  and  believe  in  men.  Let  us  believe  that 
every  power  of  man  put  forth  to  its  best  activity  must  ultimately 
lead  to  the  large  consummation  of  the  complete  life  to  all  the 
sons  of  men.  To  be  in  the  thick  of  that  seemed  to  be  the  glory 
of  a  single  human  life.  It  was  for  us  to  rejoice  in  the  richness 
of  the  life  in  which  we  were  placed, — the  richness  of  thought  and 
the  richness  of  action, — to  believe  in  it  with  all  our  hearts,  to 
hesitate  at  nothing.  But  it  seemed  to  him  the  very  newness  of 
our  life,  the  very  newness  of  business  life  and  of  scholarly  life, 
compelled  a  complete  loyalty  to  those  great  fundamental  things 
which  never  changed.  ".  .  .  It  was  because  those  were  being 
preserved,  as  he  believed,  most  earnestly,  most  religiously,  that 
we  were  able  to  look  forward  into  the  future  without  a  fear. 
There  never  was  a  time  for  men  to  live  like  this  time." 

His  imagination  was  working  in  the  same  line  as  he  went 
in  January  to  the  Leather  Trade  dinner,  noting  down  this 
point  to  be  made  in  his  speech: 

"Each  business  touches  the  imagination.  It  stands  between 
nature  and  man  and  turns  the  wonderful  world  to  human  use. 
Behind  the  carpenter,  the  waving  forest.  Behind  the  factory  the 
sunny  cotton  field,  and  before  both,  man,  human  life,  made 
stronger,  happier  by  the  transformation  which  they  work.  These 
the  two  great  things  of  the  earth,  nature  and  man. 

"  Behind  your  business  is  the  world  of  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills, 
the  lowing  herd  in  the  pasture,  the  rush  of  buffaloes  across  the 
prairie,  the  bleating  of  flocks  in  the  fold, — these  bright  and  airy 
pictures;  and  in  front  of  it  man,  with  this  tough  element  in  his 
civilization  which  you  bring  there  for  his  comfort." 

He  had  taken  offence  at  something  he  had  heard  uttered  in 
disparagement  of  nature  and  of  its  study, — that  the  love  of 
nature  stood  in  the  way  of  the  spiritual  life.  His  answer  to 
it  was  a  sermon  at  Trinity  Church  to  "a  great  gathering,"  when 
his  text  was  the  words  of  St.  Paul:  "For  the  earnest  expectation 
of  the  creation  waiteth  for  the  revealing  of  the  sons  of  God"; 
and  his  subject  was  the  relations  of  nature  and  humanity, — the 
waiting  attitude  of  nature  for  the  perfect  man: 

"How  full  were  Paul's  words  of  the  spirit  of  our  time!  For 
what  was  Science  doing  to-day?  Was  she  not  building  up  and 
completing  man  so  that  he  might  be  more  and  more  able  to  ask 


544  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  Nature  what  she  means,  and  call  forth  from  her  the  great 
forces  of  the  world? 

"The  thing  men  were  looking  for  was  not  that  Nature  should 
become  more  and  more  rich  or  full,  but  that  man  should  become 
more  worthy  of  the  answers  and  the  revelations  which  Nature 
could  make  to  him  of  herself. 

"This  was  also  true  of  the  poetry  of  the  time,  for  it  was  a  char- 
acteristic of  the  verse  of  the  nineteenth  century  that  it  felt  a  soul 
in  Nature. 

"And  it  was  the  pain  at  the  great  soul  of  Nature  that  she  could 
not  do  for  man  what  she  could  do  were  he  worthy  as  a  son  of  God. 
The  world  was  waiting  to-day  to  do  the  things  for  man  that  it 
could  not  do  so  long  as  he  had  not  in  himself  the  son  of  God." 

The  question  of  the  miracle,  its  actuality  or  its  possi- 
bility, was  one  of  the  disturbing  issues  in  the  churches. 
There  are  many  of  Phillips  Brooks's  letters,  many  reports  of 
conversations  with  him,  turning  on  this  point.  Young  men 
came  to  him  with  the  difficulty.  It  was  keeping  them  out  of 
the  Church,  or  preventing  their  whole-souled  allegiance  to  Christ. 
He  did  what  he  could  to  help  them  by  argument  or  by  statement 
of  the  question  in  a  new  light.  He  received  letters  from  those 
who  rejected  miracles,  urging  him  to  abandon  what  was  un- 
profitable and  men  no  longer  believed.  His  answer  to  such 
protests  was  that  the  pulpit  should  be  free,  or  that  if  all  lived 
up  to  the  truth  they  did  believe,  it  would  be  well.  He  was 
troubled  by  an  attitude  in  which  he  did  not  sympathize,  and 
he  seems  to  have  kept  his  deeper  conviction  in  the  background 
as  something  others  could  not  share.  But  in  a  sermon  preached 
in  1889 — one  of  the  most  characteristic  he  ever  wrote — he  gave 
full  scope  to  his  devotion.  The  text  indicates  his  attitude  toward 
this  and  every  other  conviction  he  held,  "  Rejoicing  in  the  truth." 
It  was  one  thing  to  believe,  and  another  to  rejoice.  He  enumerates 
the  points  of  belief  wherein  he  rejoiced,  and  in  doing  so  comes  to 
the  miracle : 

"There  is  the  man  who  rejoiceth  in  the  truth  of  the  miracle, 
and  for  whom  the  earth  he  treads  is  always  less  hard,  more  soft 
and  buoyant,  because  it  has  once  trembled  under  the  feet  of 
Christ.  He  is  glad  through  all  his  soul  that  the  hard-seeming 
order  of  things  has  once  and  again  felt  the  immediate  compulsion 
of  the  Master  soul.  Critical  as  he  may  be  in  his  judgment  of 
evidence,  he  does  not  grudge  assent  because  of  any  previous  con- 


MIRACLES  545 

viction  of  impossibility.  He  is  glad  to  believe.  Belief  to  him 
is  better  than  unbelief.  Eveiy  sunrise  is  more  splendid,  every 
sunset  is  more  tender,  every  landscape  has  new  meanings;  the 
great  sea  is  mightier  and  more  gracious;  life  has  more  fascina- 
tion, death  has  more  mystery,  because  Jesus  Christ  spoke  to  the 
waters,  and  shone  in  the  transfiguration  glory,  and  called  Laz- 
arus out  of  the  tomb,  and  stood  himself  in  the  bright  morning 
outside  his  own  tomb  door  at  Jerusalem." 

There  were  so  many  addresses  made  by  Phillips  Brooks  during 
the  early  part  of  the  year  that  it  is  useless  to  attempt  to  enu- 
merate them.  Wherever  he  was  called  he  went,  and  he  was 
wanted  everywhere.  Among  these  multitudinous  occasions, 
these  are  two  which  stand  out  with  greater  prominence, — one 
of  them,  the  daily  Monday  addresses,  during  Lent  at  St.  Paul's 
Church,  Boston.  They  were  intended  for  business  men,  but 
others  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  till  the  business  men 
were  in  danger  of  being  crowded  out.  The  following  letter  of 
remonstrance  sent  to  Mr.  Brooks,  indicates  the  estimate  put  upon 
these  services : 

"Boston,  March  13,  1890. 

"Dear  Sir, — Will  you  inform  me  whether  the  Monday  noon 
services  at  St.  Paul's  during  Lent  are  intended  to  be  'Business 
Men's  Meetings,'  or  not?  There  is  a  general  impression  on  the 
street  that  they  are,  and  the  lectures  would  seem  to  strengthen 
the  impression.  Yet  the  preponderance  of  women  in  the  audi- 
ence would  seem  to  belie  the  impression.  If  the  meetings  are 
intended  particularly  for  business  men,  would  it  be  unjust  to 
others  to  reserve  the  central  aisle  for  business  men  only  until 
12.05,  f°r  instance?  That  such  a  step  would  be  approved  I  am 
sure  from  conversations  both  at  the  church  and  on  the  street. 
Business  men  feel,  as  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  that  if  it  is 
their  service,  it  is  keeping  them  out  to  have  nine  tenths  of  those 
in  the  pews  women,  who  can  get  there  before  twelve,  and  the 
majority  of  whom  can,  and  probably  do,  hear  you  on  Sunday. 
The  business  men  from  the  suburbs  or  distant  cities  cannot  hear 
you  on  Sundays,  we  will  assume,  but  can  on  Monday  noon.  I 
know  of  many  men  who  would  attend  the  noonday  service  on  the 
Mondays  in  Lent  but  for  the  fact  that  they  cannot  get  to  St. 
Paul's  before  twelve,  and  at  that  hour  the  seats  are  taken  and 
the  aisles  crowded,  so  they  remain  away.  If  the  service  is  pri- 
marily for  business  men,  they  are  at  a  great  disadvantage  at 
present ;  if  not  primarily  for  them,  of  course  they  must  take  their 


546  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

chances  with  the  rest.     A  line  will  be  appreciated  by  many 
friends." 

A  similar  experience  awaited  him  at  Trinity  Church,  New 
York,  where  he  went  during  Lent  to  give  a  course  of  addresses 
to  business  men  on  six  consecutive  days.  The  invitation  came 
from  the  rector  of  Trinity,  the  Rev.  Morgan  Dix.  The  event  was 
one  of  peculiar  interest  in  the  life  of  Phillips  Brooks.  He  had 
been  in  the  habit  for  many  years  of  preaching  at  the  Church  of 
the  Incarnation  on  the  Sunday  after  Easter,  and  occasionally  at 
Grace  Church.  But  at  Trinity  he  spoke  to  representative  New 
York  in  the  largest  possible  way.  No  effort  was  made  to  call 
attention  to  the  services,  no  announcement  in  other  churches, 
no  advertisement  in  the  newspapers.  A  simple  placard  was 
suspended  to  the  iron  fence  on  the  day  when  the  services  were 
to  begin,  announcing  that  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  of  Boston,  would 
speak  to  men  at  twelve  o'clock  each  day  of  the  week.  The  diffi- 
culty which  had  been  experienced  in  Boston  was  not  repeated. 
It  had  been  proposed  at  first  that  one  half  of  the  church,  divided 
by  the  middle  aisle,  should  be  assigned  to  women,  and  the  other 
half  to  men.  Mr.  Brooks  decided  that  the  services  should 
be  confined  to  men.  The  following  reports  of  these  services 
are  taken  from  the  New  York  Sun: 

"At  11.30  this  morning  [Monday,  February  24],  busy  men 
began  to  file  into  Trinity  Church.  The  great  interior  was  dim 
by  reason  of  the  heavy  rain  outside,  and  the  business  men  who 
entered  carried  umbrellas  dripping  wet,  or  shook  the  water 
from  their  gossamers  as  they  stood  in  the  entry.  The  seats  were 
rapidly  filled,  and  before  twelve  o'clock  the  benches  in  the  aisles 
were  occupied,  so  that,  after  that  hour,  the  men  who  entered 
were  obliged  to  stand  in  the  broad  space  far  in  the  rear. 

"  Before  the  lecture  was  completed  a  throng  of  men,  whose  busi- 
ness made  it  inconvenient  for  them  to  come  at  the  beginning  of 
the  address,  had  pressed  down  the  aisle  at  the  end  of  which  the 
pulpit  stands,  so  that,  when  the  lecture  was  half  completed, 
there  stood  beneath  the  pulpit  a  great  throng  of  men  looking  with 
the  earnestness  and  steadiness  which  true  eloquence  begets  up  at 
the  great  preacher  who  was  uttering  simple  words  of  Christian 
wisdom. 

"It  was  an  impressive  sight  to  see  this  vast  church  filled  to 
overflowing  with  a  body  of  New  York  men,  representatives  of  the 
professions,  trades,  commerce,  and  the  financial  energies  of  Wall 


NEW  YORK  ADDRESSES  547 

Street.  For  here  were  men  who  directed  affairs  involving  mil- 
lions, others  who  represent  vast  litigations,  seated  side  by  side 
with  clerks  and  older  men,  who  were  employed,  many  of  them, 
in  subordinate  capacities  by  the  men  beside  whom  they  sat. 

"The  chimes  in  Trinity  steeple,  whose  echoes  were  heard  with 
dim  resonance  in  the  church,  had  scarcely  ceased  ringing  for  the 
hour  of  twelve  when  the  door  of  the  vestry  room  opened  and  the 
choir  boys,  with  Dr.  Brooks  and  Dr.  Morgan  Dix  following,  en- 
tered the  chancel.  Dr.  Brooks  wore  the  conventional  surplice, 
while  Dr.  Dix  wore  no  vestments.  Dr.  Brooks  at  once  mounted 
the  pulpit,  where,  as  he  stood,  his  giant  stature  was  revealed  to 
the  great  throng  before  him.  In  a  low  voice,  which  could  be 
heard  scarcely  twenty  feet  away,  he  read  the  opening  hymn, 
beginning,  'A  charge  to  keep  I  have.'  The  great  congregation 
rose,  and  it  was  a  sight  to  see  these  busy  men  as  they  stood  there 
singing  the  hymn  to  the  familiar  tune  written  for  it.  There 
were  men  who,  a  few  moments  before,  had  been  plunged  into  the 
intricacies  of  trade  and  finance,  now  singing  with  devout  manner 
the  hymn,  and  the  volume  of  music  which  arose  from  this  great 
throng  must  have  sounded  sweetly  to  the  ear  of  Dr.  Brooks,  for 
he  paused  in  his  own  singing  that  he  might  listen  to  the  glorious 
music  made  by  this  congregation  of  male  voices. 

"After  a  Collect  and  the  repetition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which 
must  have  been  pronounced  by  every  member  in  the  church,  so 
great  and  distinct  was  the  volume  of  sound,  Dr.  Brooks  began 
the  address.  He  started  without  a  preliminary  utterance  right 
into  the  heart  of  the  sermon,  and  his  very  first  sentence  was  ut- 
tered with  that  mighty  impetuosity  of  thought  and  speech  which 
distinguishes  him  among  American  clergymen,  which  makes  it  im- 
possible for  the  swiftest  stenographer  completely  to  report  him, 
and  which  is  a  Niagara  of  thoughts  and  words  maintained  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  discourse.  His  voice  is  peculiarly 
sympathetic  and  sweet,  even  in  his  most  impassioned  utterances. 
His  tones  are  mellow  and  a  delight  to  the  ear,  and  when  he 
utters  a  sentence  with  the  utmost  speed  of  thought,  and  of  great 
length,  but  with  perfect  symmetry  and  lucidity,  his  tones  are  so 
melodious  that  they  seem  almost  like  the  intoning  of  his  discourse. 

"The  first  few  sentences,  however,  were  spoken  in  so  low  a  tone 
that  they  were  inaudible,  and  a  silent  gesture  of  protest  went  up 
all  over  the  church,  manifested  by  the  holding  of  one  hand  to  the 
ear  that  his  words  might  be  the  better  distinguished.  He  seemed 
to  take  the  hint,  and  to  have  tested  the  acoustics  of  the  church, 
for  a  moment  later  his  voice  was  distinct  and  clear,  and  heard 
in  the  remotest  corners.  .  .  . 

"  As  he  finished  his  address  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked 
over  the  pulpit  at  that  vast  throng  crowding  the  aisle  beneath 
with  upturned  faces,  listening  for  every  word  which  came  from 


548  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

his  lips.  When  he  turned  to  descend  from  the  pulpit,  the  throng 
still  stood  there  as  though  controlled  by  his  presence  and  power, 
even  after  he  had  departed  from  the  place  where  he  had  ut- 
tered these  words  of  wisdom  in  a  manner  which  seemed  almost 
inspired." 

On  the  second  day,  Tuesday,  the  hymn  was  ' '  Rock  of  Ages, 
cleft  for  me,"  followed  by  the  saying  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The 
account  of  the  service  shows  that  the  interest  was  growing: 

"The  heavy  mist  which  palled  the  city  this  morning  concealed 
the  steeple  which  surmounts  Trinity  Church,  and  almost  hid  the 
clock  at  noon  to-day,  while  the  chimes  rang  out  the  mid-day  hour 
in  tones  which  seemed  to  be  almost  muffled.  Yet  a  steady  throng 
of  men  had  been  filing  into  the  church  for  half  an  hour,  ready  to 
meet  the  discomfort  occasioned  by  the  packing  together  of  a 
throng  whose  clothing  was  damp,  and  every  one  of  whom  car- 
ried a  dripping  umbrella.  When  the  noon  hour  was  reached,  the 
great  interior  contained  as  dense  a  throng  as  were  ever  within 
its  walls.  After  all  the  seats  were  taken,  the  crowd  pressed 
down  the  aisles,  and  stood  in  a  great  mass  of  men  in  the  passage- 
way at  the  rear  of  the  church.  So  dense  was  the  throng  that, 
after  the  exercises  which  called  it  together  began,  it  was  impos- 
sible for  any  to  get  in,  and  almost  impossible  for  any  to  get  out. 

"Yesterday  the  church  was  comfortably  filled,  but  the  throng 
that  gathered  then  was  moderate  in  comparison  with  that  which 
assembled  to-day.  In  the  aisles,  too,  there  stood  with  perfect 
patience  for  nearly  an  hour  men  who  command  millions  of  money, 
and  who  direct  affairs  of  colossal  importance.  Not  one  of  these 
turned  and  left  the  building,  although  the  discomfort  was  great 
by  reason  of  the  close  packing  of  the  throng  and  the  dampness 
which  was  encountered  on  every  side. 

"Very  many  in  the  audience  had  never  heard  him  before,  and 
it  was  evident  that  they  were,  at  the  beginning,  astonished 
at  the  rapidity  of  his  utterance.  He  spoke  with  a  voice  better 
modulated  to  the  acoustics  of  the  church  than  was  the  case  yester- 
day, and  after  the  first  sentence  or  two  his  words  were  heard  with 
perfect  distinctness  all  over  the  church.  But,  though  he  had 
increased  the  volume  of  his  tone,  and  the  distinctness  of  his 
utterance  was  evidently  in  his  mind,  yet  the  exquisite  modulation 
of  his  tone  was  even  more  apparent  than  yesterday. 

"The  service  closed  with  the  hymn,  'Arise,  my  soul,  and  with 
the  sun.'  The  impressiveness  of  this  hymn  as  sung  by  the  great 
body  of  men  was  very  great,  and  not  a  few  of  those  there  as- 
sembled, who  heard  the  volume  of  song,  were  so  impressed  that 
tears  rolled  down  their  cheeks." 


NEW  YORK  ADDRESSES  549 

As  the  days  went  on  the  interest  continued  to  grow  deeper, 
as  the  following  comment  shows: 

"The  services  suggest  none  of  the  familiar  scenes  of  the  revival 
meeting.  There  is  no  excitement,  but  there  is  a  majestic  revela- 
tion of  the  power  of  eloquence  used  to  illustrate  the  sublimest  of 
all  truths  upon  a  vast  body  of  business  men. 

"Each  succeeding  day  has  witnessed  an  increase  in  the  attend- 
ance, till  the  chancel  has  been  occupied,  the  preacher  has  found 
difficulty  in  wending  his  way  to  the  pulpit,  and  hundreds  have 
been  turned  away,  unable  to  gain  admittance.  There  have  been 
clergymen  present,  a  large  number  of  young  men,  lawyers  also, 
and  the  great  throng  of  business  men,  till  Wall  Street  and  its 
vicinity  seemed  deserted.  The  women  have  pleaded  to  be  ad- 
mitted, but  have  been  refused,  for  if  women  were  admitted  they 
would  fill  the  church  to  the  exclusion  of  those  for  whom  the  ser- 
vice is  intended. 

"Whatever  the  reason,  the  throng  that  has  been  drawn  from 
the  offices  and  stores  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city  to  Trinity 
Church  at  the  noontide  has  been  something  unprecedented.  The 
wonderful  success  of  the  Lenten  season  at  Trinity  Church  is  an 
event  about  which  merchants,  bankers,  and  lawyers  are  talking." 

We  turn  for  a  moment  to  the  preacher  himself,  as  he  prepared 
for  utterance.  Several  months  before  the  time  fixed  upon,  he 
decided  upon  his  subject,  and  made  a  synopsis  of  each  address. 
First  he  had  taken  rough  notes  in  pencil,  and  then  in  ink  drawn 
up  the  more  matured  plan.  During  the  intervening  time  he  was 
revolving  the  topics  and  their  method  of  treatment  in  his  mind. 
He  spoke  extemporaneously,  without  the  assistance  of  notes, 
but  each  address  meant  an  immense  amount  of  preparation. 
Judging  from  the  appearance  of  these  analyses,  it  was  no  calm 
preparation  that  he  made,  but  his  soul  was  heaving  with  emotion, 
as  he  dug  deep  into  the  recesses  of  his  theme.  After  he  had  made 
the  final  analyses  he  went  over  them  in  review  with  interlineations 
in  almost  every  line.  But  in  the  presence  of  his  audience  he  was 
set  free  and  lifted  up  to  say  things  with  startling  power,  which 
are  not  mentioned  in  his  plan.  He  never  was  more  free,  and 
therefore  more  himself,  than  when  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  of  Trinity 
Church,  New  York.  What  he  was  endeavoring  to  do  was  only 
in  more  thorough  manner  that  which  he  sought  in  every  sermon. 
The  occasion  stimulated  him  with  the  possibility  of  presenting 
in  complete  though  condensed  form  the  total  picture  of  life  and 


550  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  man  in  relation  to  the  gospel  of  Christ.  He  was  determined 
that  nothing  he  esteemed  of  vital  importance  should  be  lost. 
He  spoke  as  if  the  world  were  listening. 

"Freedom"  was  his  subject, — the  one  word  most  revealing 
men  to  themselves,  in  the  presence  and  under  the  influence  of  an 
enfeebling  fatalism,  which  had  come  in  consequence  of  the  de- 
cline of  individualism,  of  the  rise  of  socialism,  of  theories  about 
heredity,  and  of  the  reign  of  universal  law.  He  defined  liberty 
in  his  first  lecture,  as  the  full  opportunity  to  be  one's  best.  In 
the  second  lecture  he  presented  "Christ  the  Liberator."  The 
third  address,  "The  Process  of  the  Liberation,"  was  interesting 
as  showing  how  he  treated  the  endless  controversy,  as  old  in 
Christian  history  as  the  time  of  Pelagius  and  Augustine — the 
question  of  the  relation  of  God's  grace  to  human  freedom.  He 
combats  lingering  notions  about  election  which  still  hamper  men. 
He  refers  the  whole  work  of  salvation  to  God  alone,  as  Augustine 
had  done,  and  the  freedom  is  God's  gift.  "God  is  working  His 
side  for  you  with  His  instruments.  What  are  they?  All  your 
experiences.     He  is  really  the  worker  and  He  uses  them  all." 

The  subject  of  the  fourth  address  had  a  distinct  interest,  for 
it  concerned  the  "Freedom  of  Christian  Thought."  It  stood 
out  among  the  addresses  as  having  made  the  most  profound  im- 
pression, and  was  referred  to  as  having  given  character  to  them 
all.  It  cleared  the  intellectual  horizon.  Phillips  Brooks  was 
sensitive  to  a  widely  prevailing  impression  that  the  clergy  were 
not  free  to  speak  the  full  truth,  or  even  to  think  freely,  because 
they  were  bound  by  subscription  to  theological  tenets  which 
were  irrational,  whatever  their  denomination  or  sect.  This  deep 
and  widespread  conviction  was  acting  as  a  subtle  barrier  against 
the  appeal  of  the  Christian  faith.  There  was  the  large  body 
of  Christian  tenets,  unintelligible  to  most  men,  which  hung  like 
a  dead  weight  upon  even  the  religious  mind.  Intelligent  laymen 
who  recited  the  creeds  would  in  confidential  moments  admit 
that  they  did  not  know  anything  about  it,  whether  they  be- 
lieved or  did  not  believe. 

The  preacher  had  this  advantage,  that  he  had  gained  his  own 
freedom,  and  knew  that  he  was  free,  not  by  denying  dogmas, 
but  by  entering  into  their  spirit  and  discerning  their  relation  to 
life.     He  devoted  his  time  to  the  establishment  of  one  supreme 


NEW  YORK  ADDRESSES  551 

presupposition,  which,  if  it  were  admitted,  covered  the  who*e 
ground. 

"During  all  these  days  one  thought  must  have  arisen  in  many 
minds:  -'All  very  well,  but  your  boasted  freedom  stops  with 
activity;  it  cannot  reach  to  thought;  that  is  all  enslaved.'  Such 
thought  is  common.  It  is  sometimes  assumed  by  churches  and 
religious  books  that  it  is  true. 

"If  true,  the  religion  could  not  hold  us  by  any  means,  and  it 
could  not  really  be  an  active  force.  Christ  claims  that  it  is  not 
true  :  'Ye  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall  make  you 
free.'     It  is  the  truth  itself  that  is  to  bring  freedom. 

"What  is  the  Christian  faith?  It  is  Christ  the  Leader.  A 
thousand  things  besides  attached  to  it.  But  that  is  it.  It  is  the 
Being  standing  there  in  history  and  attaining  the  power  of  God 
to  lead  men  into  new  life,  so  that  the  desires  of  richer  life  find 
fulfilment  in  Him.  Am  I  hampering  myself  in  that  ?  Not  unless 
electricity  hampers  itself  when  it  gathers  in  lightning. 

"But  how  do  I  get  at  Him?  Just  as  the  people  in  Jerusalem 
got  at  Him.  Christ  Himself,  in  His  personal  character,  then  faith 
in  His  words  and  their  acceptance,  the  opening  up  of  their  possi- 
bility in  life.     Is  a  man  not  free  with  his  world  enlarged? 

"Miracle,  yes!  That  means  that  the  world  has  larger  answers 
to  make  to  the  greater  power,  as  it  says  more  to  the  civilized  than 
to  the  savage.  It  bursts  to  larger  music  and  diviner  landscape. 
Miracle  does  happen  when  the  miracle  man  appears. 

"That  Being  claiming  my  confidence  says  He  will  be  always 
here  and  will  always  lead.  He  promises  the  great  extension  of 
Himself, — the  Holy  Spirit.     He  gives  one  divine  commandment. 

"That  is  the  Christian  faith.  The  other  things  connected  with 
it,  character  of  books,  forms  of  government,  interpretation  of 
His  words,  special  injunctions,  aye,  His  own  nature,  His  scheme 
of  penalties, — all  of  these  are  interesting,  but  Christianity  be- 
hind them  all.  Let  us  not  exclude  Christians  from  Christianity. 
Whoever  is  His  disciple  and  calls  Him   Master  is  a  Christian. 

"What  does  Christ  do?  He  makes  God  real.  The  two  rea- 
sons for  believing  God's  existence, — the  world  is  intelligible  with 
Him,  and  a  great  puzzle  without  Him;  and  Jesus  believed  Him. 
I  think  He  knew. 

"I  honor  the  sceptic.  He  will  not  enter  this  region  uncon- 
vinced. Perhaps  he  is  demanding  conviction,  which  can  only 
come  when  he  is  inside.  Still,  honor  to  him.  Truthfulness  is 
more  than  truth.     But  his  is  not  a  larger,  't  is  a  smaller  life." 

The  fifth  address  was  entitled  "The  Christian  is  the  True  Man." 
The  sight  of  men  coming  to  these  services  raises  the  question 


552  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

' '  Have  they  left  one  world  for  another,  or  have  they  mounted 
to  the  highest  conception  of  their  whole  world?"  In  the  last 
address,  when  the  interest  which  had  been  daily  increasing  cul- 
minated, he  began  by  expressing  the  sense  and  fear  of  too  much 
talk  lest  he  should  have  complicated  what  is  simple,  but  also  the 
rejoicing  confidence  that  "when  we  plead  with  one  another 
there  is  forever  the  great  pleading  power  of  God"  standing  be- 
hind the  appeal,  as  the  power  of  nature  with  the  physician  or  the 
law  of  gravitation  with  the  mechanic. 

' '  I  could  never  get  hold  of  the  theology  of  those  who  stand  in 
perpetual  amazement  before  the  spectacle  of  God's  love  to  his 
children.  That  love  seems  to  me  more  and  more  natural.  What 
I  have  tried  to  do  is  to  make  the  whole  seem  natural. 

"Do  you  say,  What  can  I  do?  As  your  brother,  let  me  try  to 
tell  you. 

"(i)  Leave  off  your  sin.  (2)  Do  your  personal  duty.  (3)  Pray 
simply,  passionately,  earnestly.  (4)  The  Bible;  read  it  till  that 
Christ  figure  is  before  you.  (5)  The  Church,  which  is  the  embodi- 
ment of  all — if  it  is  weak,  make  it  strong. 

"Unless  you  do  these  things  you  have  no  right  to  complain  that 
the  new  life  does  not  come  in  and  you  are  not  free.  These  are 
not  a  set  of  rules.     They  are  windows  of  the  soul. 

"These  are  the  great  religious  words  ever  deepening: 

"  (1)  Separation  from  the  world;  not  the  desert  or  cell  but  inde- 
pendence by  service. 

"  (2)  Salvation  of  the  soul,  not  from  pain,  but  from  sin. 

"(3)  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God,  with  glorious  and  glad  welcome. 
He  is  always  here. 

"  Be  such  a  man  that  if  all  men  were  like  you  the  world 
would  be  saved. 

"Farewell,  my  friends.  It  is  not  for  long,  and  yet  it  is  so  long. 
For  the  world  will  be  here  after  we  are  gone,  and  after  the  world 
is  gone  we  shall  live  forever.  Whatever  may  come  hereafter, 
not  this  particular  opportunity  to  serve  God  will  come  again. 
Catch  to-day.  Be  men;  be  men.  Love  God.  Be  brave.  Be 
true.  And  at  last  may  we  say,  as  He  said,  '  Father,  I  have  glori- 
fied Thee  on  the  earth.'  " 

Those  who  were  following  Phillips  Brooks  at  this  time,  as  he 
pursued  his  wonderful  career,  felt  that  some  mysterious  change 
was  passing  over  him,  intensifying  his  power,  producing  effects 
upon  his  congregation  which  no  words  are  adequate  to  represent. 
In  this  extract  from  a  Boston  paper  is  said  what  many  thought: 


NEW  YORK  ADDRESSES  553 

"That  quality  which  has  entered  into  Dr.  Brooks's  sermons, 
especially  of  late,  was  felt  in  a  marked  degree  by  his  New  York 
audience.  Always  strong,  earnest,  and  filled  with  the  dignity  of 
his  words  and  work  it  has  been  a  matter  for  comment  in  Boston 
that  since  his  return  from  his  last  journey  [the  visit  to  Japan]  he 
has  brought  to  bear  a  deeper  force  than  ever,  a  more  impassioned 
delivery  of  thought,  and  an  apparent  burning  conviction  of  the 
necessity  of  impressing  upon  the  people  the  truth  of  which  he  is 
convinced.  The  repressed  but  tremendous  effect  of  yesterday's 
sermon  in  New  York  confirms  the  belief  that  there  is  new  power 
in  his  utterance,  a  sense  of  having  been  touched  by  the  coal  that 
the  world's  prophets  have  felt  when  they  have  spoken  enduring 
words  to  those  who  'hear  indeed  but  understand  not.'  " 

This  "new  power  of  utterance"  was  increasingly  manifest  in 
every  sermon,  but  it  cannot  be  described.  One  thing  was  ap- 
parent, however,  that  the  whole  man  was  visibly  affected  when 
he  preached.  It  was  not  so  in  his  earlier  ministry,  when  he  stood 
unimpassioned  and  unmoved,  thrilling  his  audience  till  it  took 
them  long  to  recover  their  normal  mood,  but  himself  calm  in  the 
recesses  of  his  spirit,  and  maintaining  his  self-composure.  What 
struck  his  hearers  now  was  the  torrent  of  feeling  within  him,  as 
he  poured  forth  his  burning  words.  The  simple  manhood  in  him 
had  become  a  stronger  appeal  than  any  intellectual  endowment. 

One  would  like  to  linger  over  some  of  the  sermons  preached 
in  a  year  which  seems  to  have  been  among  the  most  prolific 
in  his  ministry.  The  Lenten  season  was  rich  in  these  impressive 
sermons.  His  inclination  was  to  dwell  more  on  the  passive  side 
of  the  life  of  Christ,  His  sufferings  and  cross  in  their  deeper  rela- 
tions to  Christian  experience.  He  preached  the  Baccalaureate 
Sermon  at  Harvard  before  the  class  of  1890,  and  performed  the 
same  service  for  the  graduating  class  of  the  Institute  of  Tech- 
nology. Two  sermons  stand  out  with  peculiar  vividness,  where 
he  seized  the  allegories  of  history  and  brought  them  home  to  the 
individual  soul.  They  are  both  of  them  poems,  with  the  tragic 
element  supreme:  "The  Egyptians  dead  upon  the  Seashore" 
and  "The  Feast  of  Belshazzar."  These  were  written  sermons, 
while  for  the  most  part  his  preaching  was  extempore.  In  the 
year  1890  he  wrote  but  six  sermons.  He  was  not  satisfied  with 
himself,  and  bemoaned  the  days  when  the  sermon  was  the  event 


554  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

of  the  week.  He  told  one  of  his  friends  at  this  time  that  he 
intended  to  give  up  extempore  preaching  and  go  back  again 
to  the  written  sermon.  He  seemed  to  be  reviewing  his  theo- 
logical convictions,  and  giving  them  firmer  expression.  In  a 
sermon  on  the  text  "Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord,"  he  speaks  of  the  "blessedness"  of  "Eternal  Hope"  and 
of  "our  right  to  keep  it." 

How  the  mind  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  working  in  other  direc- 
tions may  be  seen  in  an  essay,  already  referred  to,  entitled  "  Or- 
thodoxy," read  before  the  Clericus  Club,  June  2,  1890.  He  saw 
the  symptoms,  as  he  believed,  of  an  ecclesiastical  reaction, 
waving  this  word  on  its  banner.  He  challenges  the  coming 
storm  in  his  own  person.  He  denounces  orthodoxy  as  "born 
of  fear,  and  as  having  no  natural  heritage  either  from  hope 
or  love."  He  admitted  that  orthodoxy  had  its  place  and  its 
importance,  but  they  were  both  inferior. 

"It  is  an  arrogant,  pushing  thing,  crowding  itself  into  thrones 
where  it  has  no  right.  ...  Is  not  the  whole  sum  of  the  matter 
this,  that  orthodoxy  as  a  principle  of  action  or  a  standard 
of  belief  is  obsolete  and  dead?  It  is  not  that  the  substance 
of  orthodoxy  has  been  altered,  but  that  the  very  principle  of 
orthodoxy  has  been  essentially  disowned.  It  is  not  conceivable 
now  that  any  council,  however  oecumenically  constituted,  should 
so  pronounce  on  truth  that  its  decrees  should  have  any  weight 
with  thinking  men,  save  what  might  legitimately  seem  to  belong 
to  the  character  and  wisdom  of  the  persons  who  composed  the 
council.  Personal  judgment  is  on  the  throne,  and  will  remain 
there, — personal  judgment,  enlightened  by  all  the  wisdom,  past 
or  present,  which  it  can  summon  to  its  aid,  but  forming  finally 
its  own  conclusions  and  standing  by  them  in  the  sight  of  God, 
whether  it  stands  in  a  great  company  or  stands  alone." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1890  he  wrote  to  Archdeacon 
Farrar : 

"  233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  12,  1890. 
"My  very  dear  Archdeacon, — This  New  Year  .  .  .  starts 
well,  I  think,  in  spite  of  a  thousand  perverse  things  and  people, 
which  one  would  like  to  rectify  or  obliterate,  and  cannot.  The 
thing  which  grows  on  me  most  is  the  splendid  sense  of  liberty 
which  is  everywhere,  which  no  sight  of  the  extravagances  and 
enormities  to  which  it  gives  place  can  make  to  seem  anything  but 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS    555 

splendid.  I  rather  think  that  there  has  never  been  a  time  to 
which,  if  we  were  suddenly  transferred,  we  should  not  feel  as  if 
we  woke  up  in  a  stifling  dungeon  with  chains  at  hand  and  heel. 
So  let  us  rejoice  and  hope  great  things  of  1890.  I  cannot  picture 
your  house  with  the  changed  look  that  it  must  have  now  that 
your  children  have,  so  many  of  them,  gone.  But  be  thankful 
that  you  are  not  a  miserable  celibate,  whose  being  is  bounded 
by  the  ground  his  two  feet  stand  on.  Browning  and  Lightfoot 
both  are  gone,  and  the  world  is  vastly  poorer.  I  think  of  both 
of  them  as  you  gave  me  the  privilege  of  seeing  them  at  your 
house,  and  their  great  work  is  nearer  and  more  real  to  me  because 
of  your  kindness.  I  will  not  believe  that  the  new  great  Poet  is 
not  near  at  hand.  I  thought  I  met  him  in  the  street  yesterday, 
but  perhaps  I  was  mistaken.     But  he  will  come  soon!" 

While  staying  in  New  York  at  the  time  when  he  was  giving 
his  addresses  at  Trinity  Church,  a  gentleman  called  for  the  pur- 
pose of  interviewing  him  and  of  publishing  the  results  of  the 
interview  in  a  Philadelphia  paper.  The  article  appeared  headed 
"Phillips  Brooks's  Broad  Views  about  Modern  Christianity — 
Truth,  not  Dogmas,  Wanted."  The  report  presented  him  as  a 
radical  reformer,  eagerly  awaiting  some  great  religious  revolution 
in  the  near  future.  To  a  friend  disturbed  at  the  unqualified, 
almost  excited  tone  of  the  remarks  reported  by  the  interviewer, 
who  wrote  to  know  if  he  had  been  reported  correctly,  he  replied: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  5,  1890. 

"My  dear  Cooper, — One  day  last  week,  when  I  was  staying 
with  Arthur  in  New  York,  a  most  respectable  man  called  on  me 
and  introduced  a  friend  whose  name  I  did  not  catch.  We  talked 
for  about  half  an  hour.  In  the  course  of  conversation  he  said  that 
he  had  something  to  do  with  the  New  York  Sun.  I  have  not 
the  slightest  recollection  of  his  mentioning  any  Philadelphia 
paper,  or  of  his  saying  anything  about  reporting  our  conversation. 
If  he  had  asked  my  consent  I  should  certainly  have  refused  it. 

"This  is  the  report  which  you  have  sent  me  in  The  Press. 
As  to  the  matter  of  it,  it  follows  the  general  line  of  our  conversa- 
tion, and  I  recognize  a  remark  of  mine  here  and  there.  I  hope  I 
do  not  wholly  talk  like  that.  The  whole  thing  teaches  me  again 
not  to  talk  freely  with  any  living  fellow-creature,  unless  you  want 
to  see  what  he  thinks  you  said,  or  thinks  that  you  ought  to  have 
said,  in  the  next  newspaper.  Of  course  there  is  nothing  to  be 
done  about  it.  It  will  die  the  quiet  death  which  comes  to 
rubbish,  and  the  world  will  go  on  very  much  the  same." 


556  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

On  May  14  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Pittsfield,  preaching  the  sermon 
on  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of  the  new  church.  People  from 
far  and  near  had  come  to  Pittsfield,  attracted  by  the  occasion 
of  the  opening  of  the  church  and  by  the  reputation  of  Phillips 
Brooks, — among  them  a  Shaker  brother,  from  a  neighboring 
settlement,  who  was  anxious  to  show  him  that  his  tenets  were 
in  sympathy  with  the  Shaker  creed.  Failing  to  reach  him,  he 
wrote  a  long  letter,  expounding  the  faith  as  held  by  the  Shaker 
community.  The  letter  reached  him  with  no  other  address  than 
"Pastor  Phillips  Brooks,  the  Celebrated  Preacher." 

It  had  been  Mr.  Brooks's  intention  to  spend  the  summer  at 
North  Andover,  and  he  had  so  informed  his  friends ;  but  he  sud- 
denly changed  his  mind  and  decided  upon  a  visit  to  Europe.  He 
was  furnished  with  letters  by  his  English  friends,  which  enabled 
him  to  see  what  he  wished  in  places  not  hitherto  visited.  He 
wandered  through  Devonshire  and  Cornwall,  going  also  to  the 
English  Andover  out  of  respect  for  its  associations.  While  he 
was  in  London  he  was  moved  to  the  writing  of  sonnets.  It  was 
many  years  since  his  mood  had  tempted  him  in  this  direction. 
One  of  them  was  entitled 

HAPPINESS  AND  CONTENT 

Now  will  I  find  the  traitor  where  he  hides, 

The  culprit,  Happiness,  who  did  me  wrong. 

He  came  to  me  with  trumpet  and  with  song, 
Even  as  he  comes  to  Victory  and  to  brides. 
With  rich  delights  he  hung  my  sombre  walls, 

And  taught  gay  dances  to  the  serious  hours; 

His  footsteps  thronged  the  vacant  mead  with  flowers, 
His  breath  with  music  filled  the  silent  halls. 
And  then  he  vanished.     But,  the  day  he  went, 

The  central  jewel  of  my  house  he  stole, 
The  precious  jewel  which  is  called  Content, 

Without  which  no  man  keeps  a  living  soul. 
The  thief  I  '11  find.     The  theft  he  shall  restore, 
Then  he  may  go.     I  covet  him  no  more. 

In  a  letter  to  Rev.  John  C.  Brooks  he  speaks  of  a  visit  to 
Tennyson : 

"Lucerne,  August  25,  1890. 
"I  had  a  delightful  little  visit  to  Tennyson  at  his  house  at  Aid- 
worth.     He  has  grown  very  old,  but  is  bright  and  clear-headed, 
and  may  give  us  some  new  verses  yet.     Just  after  I  left  England 
Newman  died,  and  all  the  pulpit  and  press  have  been  full  of  the 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS    557 

laudation  and  discussion  of  him  ever  since.  He  was  a  remark- 
able man,  by  no  means  of  the  first  class,  for  he  never  got  a  final 
principle  nor  showed  a  truly  brave  mind;  but  there  was  great 
beauty  in  his  character,  and  his  intellect  was  very  subtle." 

In  response  to  a  letter  asking  his  opinion  on  vested  female 
choirs,  he  spoke  his  mind: 

"H6tel  Clerc,  Martigny,  August  17,  1890. 
"Not  a  surpliced  female  choir,  my  dear  friend!  Almost  any- 
thing but  that!  But  let  us  set  ourselves  against  that  most  fan- 
tastic and  frivolous  affectation  which  has  turned  up  in  these  days, 
when  surely  the  Church  is  young-lady ish  enough  without  putting 
young-lady  ism  decorated  for  a  spectacle  in  the  seat  of  prominence 
and  honor.  Surely  it  is  amazing  how  much  attention  clothes 
enlist  in  all  the  operations  of  our  great  Communion.  Let  us  keep 
our  simplicity,  and  so,  no  vested  female  choirs!  Almost  any- 
thing but  that ! " 

In  his  letters  he  makes  allusion  to  the  summer  wanderings : 

"I  have  had  a  bright,  pleasant  summer  of  the  kind  which 
makes  no  history,  but  leaves  a  pleasant  taste  in  the  mouth.  And 
now  even  the  door  bell  has  a  pleasant  sound,  because  it  means 
the  old  familiar  life  and  work. 

"It  was  a  quiet  little  thing,  the  journey  was,  but  very  pleas- 
ant. Two  placid  voyages  with  interesting  people  enough  on 
board;  three  weeks  in  England  and  three  weeks  in  Switzerland; 
the  old  places  which  we  knew  so  well, — Chamouni  and  Interlaken, 
and  Lucerne,  Paris,  and  London,  all  very  delightful  and  refresh- 
ing. It  went  without  an  accident  or  disappointment,  and  when 
we  stepped  ashore  on  Saturday,  it  seemed  easy  enough  to  be 
thankful." 

The  burden  of  the  familiar  letters  from  233  Clarendon  Street, 
which  went  forth  at  once  to  his  friends,  was  an  urgent  invitation  to 
come  and  see  him.  He  should  be  expecting  them  at  every  ring  of 
the  door  bell.  "Come  at  once."  "I  will  put  prohibitory  marks 
against  the  calendar."  Even  the  "precious  fragments"  of  their 
time  were  besought  amid  many  engagements,  some  of  them 
"vexatious."  The  Church  Congress  was  to  meet  in  Philadelphia 
in  November,  when  he  was  to  read  a  paper  entitled  "The  Condi- 
tions of  Church  Growth  in  Missionary  Lands."  But  the  pros- 
pect of  a  visit  to  Philadelphia  loomed  up  more  largely  to  his 
imagination  than  the  subject  of  his  paper. 


558  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Late  in  the  fall  Mr.  Brooks  published  his  fifth  and  last  volume 
of  sermons,  dedicating  it  "To  the  memory  of  my  brother,  George 
Brooks,  who  died  in  the  great  war."  Many  sermons  are  heie 
which  must  be  counted  among  his  best,  such,  for  example,  as 
"Backgrounds  and  Foregrounds"  and  "The  Planter  and  the 
Rain,"  both  written  in  1889.  An  important  sermon  is  "The 
Seriousness  of  Life,"  from  the  text,  "Let  God  not  speak  to  us  lest 
we  die,"  which  has  been  mentioned  in  a  previous  chapter,  where 
the  impression  it  made  was  described.  Another  sermon,  written 
from  the  depths  of  his  own  experience,  is  the  "Silence  of  Christ," 
— "But  He  answered  her  not  a  word."  "The  Priority  of  God" 
was  a  sermon  whose  idea  was  the  God-consciousness  in  which  he 
lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being.  He  contrasts  the  phrase 
"the  religious  world"  as  employed  popularly  with  the  reality  of 
the  religious  world  as  it  should  be : 

"What  a  poor,  petty,  vulgar  thing  that  old  phrase,  'the  relig- 
ious world,'  has  often  been  made  to  mean, — a  little  section  of 
humanity  claiming  monopoly  of  divine  influences,  and  making 
the  whole  thought  of  man's  intercourse  with  God  cheap  and  irrev- 
erent by  vicious  quarrels  and  mercenary  selfishness ;  the  world  of 
ecclesiastical  machinery  and  conventions  and  arrangements. 
But  look !  See  what  the  religious  world  really  is  in  its  idea,  and 
shall  be  when  it  shall  finally  be  realized.  A  world  everywhere 
aware  of  and  rejoicing  in  the  priority  of  God,  feeling  all  power 
flow  out  from  Him,  and  sending  all  action  back  to  report  itself  to 
Him  for  judgment, — a  world  where  goodness  means  obedience 
to  God,  and  sin  means  disloyalty  to  God,  and  progress  means 
growth  in  the  power  to  utter  God,  and  knowledge  means  the  un- 
derstanding of  God's  thought,  and  happiness  means  the  peace  of 
God's  approval.     That  is  the  religious  world." 

The  sermon  is  also  here  which  Principal  Tulloch  pronounced 
the  finest  he  had  ever  heard,  "The  Opening  of  the  Eyes."  But 
Mr.  Brooks  gave  the  precedence  to  the  sermon  "The  Light  of  the 
World,"  whence  the  volume  takes  its  title.  There  is  here  also 
what  seems  like  prophetic  intimation,  in  the  sermon  which  closes 
the  book,  "The  Certain  End." 

On  December  4  he  went  to  Philadelphia  to  preach  the  ser- 
mon at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  where  he  began  his  ministry 
over  thirty  years  before.  The  occasion  was  the  fiftieth  anniver- 
sary of  the  establishment  of  the  church.     His  text,  "I  will  not 


CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT    559 

let  thee  go  except  thou  bless  me,"  was  suggestive  of  the  mystery 
of  the  spiritual  life, — the  mystery  of  the  withholding  of  spiritual 
gifts,  when  God  is  willing  to  give  and  man  is  desirous  to  receive, 
and  yet  the  blessing  does  not  come.  "  The  meaning  of  it  must  be 
that  there  is  some  inability  to  take  the  gift."  From  the  subject 
of  his  sermon  he  turned  to  the  occasion,  recalling  to  the  congrega- 
tion how  he  had  kept  the  twentieth  anniversary  with  them  in 
i860.  He  dwelt  lovingly  on  the  "little  church,"  the  "simple 
service,"  the  "voluntary  choir,"  the  "great  Sunday-school,"  the 
"people's  love  for  the  church,"  all  still  fresh  in  his  memory.  He 
enumerated  the  names  of  those  with  whom  he  had  been  asso- 
ciated. He  touched  on  the  war  and  its  experiences.  Then  he 
reviewed  the  years  that  had  passed  since  he  left  them,  the  new 
congregation,  the  more  elaborate  service,  the  freer  thought,  the 
new  sense  of  God,  personal  liberty,  greater  work,  and  the  truer 
missionary  spirit.  "And  so,  let  the  future  come.  It  is  better 
than  the  past,  by  the  past." 

So  the  year  1890  came  to  an  end.  He  kept  his  twenty- 
first  anniversary  as  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  which  was  to 
be  also  his  last.  His  fifty-fifth  birthday  was  commemorated 
as  usual  by  some  of  his  more  intimate  friends  who  met  him  at 
luncheon.  He  came  to  Christmas  with  its  festivities,  the  last 
he  should  celebrate  in  the  accustomed  way,  for  a  change  was 
impending  in  his  life,  and  "new  experiences,"  of  which  he  often 
spoke,  were  to  open  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CHARACTERISTICS. 

The  reserve  which  marked  the  early  life  of  Phillips  Brooks 
continued  in  his  maturer  years.  He  himself  has  spoken  on  the 
subject,  but  in  his  sermons  to  all  who  cared  to  listen,  not  to 
his  immediate  friends.  From  a  sermon  on  the  text,  "The  secret 
of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him,"  these  extracted  sen- 
tences seem  to  have  a  personal  bearing: 

"Every  living  thing  which  is  really  worth  the  knowing  has  a 
secret  in  it  which  can  only  be  known  to  a  few. 

"There  is  something  that  every  man  holds  back  from  us;  and 
the  more  of  a  man  he  is,  the  more  conscious  we  are  of  this  re- 
serve. The  more  of  a  man  he  is,  the  more  secret  is  the  secret 
of  his  life,  and  the  more  plain  and  frank  are  its  external  workings. 
Anybody  may  know  what  he  does  and  where  he  goes,  yet  all 
the  while  every  one  who  looks  at  him  will  see  that  there  is 
something  behind  all  which  escapes  the  closest  observation. 

"We  all  know  how  little  other  people  know  about  us.  The 
common  saying  that  other  people  know  us  better  than  we  know 
ourselves  is  only  very  superficially  true.  They  do  see  certain 
tricks  in  us  which  we  are  not  aware  of ;  but  if  we  are  at  all  thought- 
ful and  self-observant  they  do  not  get  at  the  secret  of  our  life 
as  we  know  it." 

The  secret  of  his  own  personality  he  guarded  to  the  end. 
Had  some  one  known  how  to  approach  him  it  might  have  been 
unveiled.  But  the  deep  instinct  which  created  the  barrier  of 
reserve  passed  into  a  settled  habit,  and  what  he  might  have  told 
of  himself  remained  unsaid.  What  the  true  method  of  approach 
should  be  he  has  also  told  us: 

"When  men  try  to  get  hold  of  the  secret  of  your  life,  no  friend- 
ship, no  kindliness,  can  make  you  show  it  to  them  unless  they 
evidently  really  feel  as  you  feel  that  it  is  a  serious  and  sacred 
thing.     There  must  be  something  like  reverence  or  awe  about  the 

560 


CHARACTERISTICS  561 

way  that  they  approach  you.  It  is  the  way  in  which  children 
shut  themselves  up  before  their  elders,  because  they  know  their 
elders  have  no  such  sense  as  they  have  of  the  importance  of  their 
childish  thoughts  and  feelings." 

The  following  chapter  of  reminiscences  and  impression 
gathered  from  various  sources  deals  with  the  external  workings 
of  his  life  in  their  frank  simplicity.  The  career  of  Phillips  Brooks 
always  looked  to  those  about  him  as  one  line  of  unbroken  pros- 
perity. There  had  been  no  check  to  his  success,  no  halt  in  his 
triumphs.  "Perennial  sunniness,"  says  one  who  crossed  the 
ocean  with  him,  was  his  characteristic.  He  was  accustomed  to 
say  of  himself  that  his  life  had  been  one  of  the  happiest.  In 
the  later  years,  and  after  the  death  of  his  mother,  the  sense  of 
loneliness  increased.  He  hungered  for  human  affection.  This 
was  the  royal  avenue  to  his  soul  for  those  who  knew  how  to  take 
it.  He  admitted  that  it  had  been  the  mistake  of  his  life  not  to 
have  married.  Sometimes,  in  the  homes  of  his  younger  friends, 
he  seemed  to  resent  their  happiness.  "The  trouble  with  you 
married  men  is  that  you  think  no  one  has  been  in  love  but  your- 
selves; I  know  what  love  is;  I  have  been  in  love  myself."  He 
wanted  to  enter  every  great  human  experience.  "To  lose  any 
of  the  legitimate  experiences  of  a  full  human  career  is  a  loss  for 
which  one  will  be  poorer  forever."  Life  grew  sad  in  the  retro- 
spect when  he  thought  that  he  had  been  shut  out  from  the  great- 
est of  all  experiences, — marriage  and  wife  and  children.  But  he 
forced  himself  to  look  upon  the  brighter  side  of  things.  Out  of 
his  loneliness  came  consolation  to  himself  and  others. 

Prominent  among  his  personal  characetristics  was  the  power 
of  making  his  residence  home-like.  This  was  evident  in  the 
rectory  on  Clarendon  Street,  where  the  personal  adaptedness  was 
apparent  on  entering.  The  ample  study  was  the  substitute  for 
the  drawing-room,  whose  massive  fireplace,  built  of  large  blocks 
of  unhewn  stone,  was  the  central  feature.  The  room  was  luxuri- 
ous in  its  appointments.  The  walls  were  lined  with  books  on 
all  sides  of  the  room,  halfway  to  the  ceiling,  and  above  the  book- 
cases every  available  space  was  devoted  to  pictures.  In  the 
small  reception-room  next  to  the  study  the  books  overflowed  and 
pictures  abounded.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  portraits;  he 
gave  prominence  to  the  portrait  of  Maurice.  There  were  marble 
36 


562  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

busts  of  Coleridge  and  Kingsley,  replicas  of  those  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  a  smaller  bust  of  Stanley.  He  took  pride  in  the 
image  of  Pico  of  Mirandola  carved  in  wood.  From  India  he  had 
brought  the  image  of  Buddha.  There  was  a  cast  of  Cromwell's 
face  and  another  of  Lincoln's.  There  were  interesting  and  beau- 
tiful objects,  wherever  the  eye  might  turn. 

His  working-table,  constructed  for  himself,  was  large  and  incon- 
veniently high  for  any  one  else.  Near  it  was  the  writing  table  of 
Dean  Stanley,  sent  to  Mr.  Brooks  after  Stanley's  death,  on  which, 
according  to  tradition,  had  been  written  the  History  of  the  Jew- 
ish Church.  On  another  table,  movable  at  pleasure,  lay  the 
latest  books  and  magazines, — to  many  the  most  attractive  feat- 
ure of  the  room.  It  was  a  source  of  wonder  how  he  seemed  to 
secure  in  advance  whatever  was  valuable  in  recent  literature,  and 
to  have  read  it  before  others  were  aware  of  its  appearance. 
Much  of  his  work  was  done  in  a  large  alcove  on  the  second  story, 
above  the  front  door,  where  the  walls  were  lined  with  books  of 
reference.  His  bedroom  was  over  the  study,  corresponding  to  it 
in  size,  and  opposite  was  the  guest  room,  often  occupied. 

Those  who  enjoyed  his  hospitality  knew  what  power  of  wel- 
come he  could  offer.  He  had  the  capacity  for  mental  concentra- 
tion, so  that  the  presence  of  others  or  the  talk  going  on  around 
him,  even  an  interruption  from  a  caller,  were  no  disturbance. 
He  rather  looked  down  on  ordinary  mortals  who  were  obliged  to 
shut  themselves  up  to  their  task.  It  was  impressive  to  be  with 
him  on  Sunday  and  watch  him  as  he  prepared  himself  for  the 
afternoon  service.  There  was  no  appearance  of  nervous  anxiety, 
but  a  deep  serenity,  his  face  aglow  with  spiritual  beauty.  He 
would  answer  questions  with  a  gentle  refinement  and  sweetness 
of  tone,  but  beneath  the  appearance  was  concentration  upon  the 
theme  he  was  revolving,  to  whose  power  he  seemed  to  be 
submitting  himself.  He  held  a  scrap  of  paper  which  he  would 
glance  at  quickly  for  a  moment, — the  only  apparent  aid  in  his 
preparation. 

"I  recall  an  incident  [says  a  friend  of  Phillips  Brooks]  which 
happened  on  some  occasion  when  he  had  invited  a  number  of 
young  men  to  his  house.  Among  them  was  a  theological  student, 
whom  I  observed  to  be  moving  about  in  the  study  in  a  distracted 
manner,  scanning  the  books,  even  getting  down  on  his  hands  and 


CHARACTERISTICS  563 

knees  in  order  to  read  the  titles  in  the  lower  shelves.  As  Mr. 
Brooks  was  not  in  the  room  at  the  time,  I  took  the  liberty  of  ask- 
ing him  if  there  was  anything  he  was  searching  for.  He  replied, 
'  I  am  trying  to  find  out  where  he  gets  it  from.'  When  I  asked  of 
him  if  he  had  found  the  source,  he  replied,  tapping  his  forehead, 
'He  gets  it  here.'" 

Among  his  relics  were  the  sermon  of  Dean  Stanley  preached  at 
Trinity  Church,  whose  chirography  it  was  impossible  to  de- 
cipher; the  last  sermon  preached  by  Dr.  Vinton;  a  sermon  by  Dr. 
Sears,  of  Weston,  and  another  by  Dean  Farrar.  When  he  was 
visiting  Tennyson,  he  asked  for  the  clay  pipe  just  finished,  about 
to  be  thrown  into  the  fireplace.  Tennyson  had  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and,  saying  "  Do  you  want  it,  mon? "  had  handed  it  to  him. 
He  called  upon  the  widow  of  Rev.  F.  D.  Maurice  in  London,  and 
received  from  her  a  manuscript  of  one  of  Maurice's  sermons,  which 
he  had  bound  up  with  Maurice's  Life  and  Letters,  in  the  richest 
of  red  morocco.  Red  was  his  favorite  color.  In  ordering  prayer 
books  and  hymnals  for  Trinity  Church,  he  specified  that  they 
must  be  bound  in  red.  He  liked  to  collect  autographs,  pasting 
the  autograph  letter  of  authors  in  their  books. 

He  had  the  gift  of  housekeeping.  He  was  annoyed  by  signs 
of  shiftlessness.  He  ordered  the  meals  himself  every  morning, 
regulating  in  a  few  words  the  household  affairs  for  the  day.  His 
hours  were  regular.  He  rose  at  seven  and  from  the  time  he  was 
heard  stirring  in  the  morning  he  was  singing  to  himself,  and 
continued  what  was  rather  the  effort  at  a  tune  until  breakfast, 
which  was  at  eight.  Then  followed  a  short  interval  of  work  be- 
fore the  crowd  of  callers  came.  He  would  have  no  office  hours, 
nor  would  he  refuse  to  see  any  one  who  called.  Lunch  was  at 
one.  After  lunch  came  calls  on  the  sick,  or  meetings  of  various 
kinds.  He  made  few  parochial  calls.  Six  was  the  dinner  hour. 
He  sometimes  found  it  hard  to  get  out  in  the  evening.  Often 
there  were  callers.  In  the  evenings  when  he  did  not  go  out  and 
there  were  no  callers,  he  was  most  delightful.  At  ten  o'clock 
the  house  was  shut,  and  at  eleven  he  was  in  bed. 

In  the  course  of  his  life  he  often  sat  for  his  photograph  and 
was  quite  willing  to  give  his  photographs  to  those  asking  for 
them.  But  he  was  averse  to  allowing  them  to  be  exposed  for 
sale,  giving  the  strictest  injunctions  to  prevent  it.     Not  until 


564  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  last  years  of  his  life  was  this  prohibition  removed  with 
his  consent.  Those  taken  in  1886,  when  he  was  about  fifty,  have 
been  the  most  widely  popular,  representing  him  at  his  best,  when 
he  was  still  in  unimpaired  strength  and  vigor.  The  nervous  ten- 
sion and  the  harrassed  look,  caused  by  illness,  which  appear  in 
the  later  photographs,  have  often  been  misconstrued  since  his 
death,  as  if  they  represented  the  spiritual  yearning  in  his  face 
when  preaching  in  his  later  years.  His  own  opinion  of  the  pho- 
tograph appears  in  his  statement:  "A  portrait  has  a  value  of  its 
own,  entirely  independent  of  its  likeness  to  the  man  who  sat  for 
it;  a  photograph  has  none."  He  declined  requests  to  sit  for  his 
portrait.  The  following  letter  is  not  to  be  taken  too  literally, 
and  yet  indicates  what  was  more  than  a  passing  mood: 

Boston,  February  17,  1880. 

"I  thank  you  very  heartily  for  your  kind  note.  It  is  very 
pleasant  to  me  to  know  that  you  would  care  to  have  my  picture 

painted,  and  Mr. flatters  me  very  much  by  wanting  to  paint 

it. 

"But  to  have  one's  portrait  painted  has  always  seemed  to  me 
to  be  a  very  great  and  solemn  thing,  to  be  given  as  a  privilege  to 
very  great  people  as  they  are  getting  to  the  end  of  life.  I  have 
almost  a  superstition  about  it.  The  modern  promiscuousness  of 
the  cheap  photograph  seems  to  me  to  have  taken  the  sacredness 
in  large  part  from  one  of  the  most  sacred  things.  Let  us  pre- 
serve the  venerableness  of  the  portrait.  I  am  really  serious 
about  this,  and  I  shall  not  think  for  twenty  years  yet,  even  if  I 
dare  to  think  then,  that  I  have  any  right  to  be  painted.  .  .  . 
"Yours  most  faithfully, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

There  is  one  portrait  of  Phillips  Brooks  painted  a  few  years 
later  by  Mrs.  Henry  Whitman,  which  has  preserved  a  certain 
quality  of  expression  his  photographs  do  not  give.  Not  only 
does  it  present  the  strength  and  grace  of  his  stature,  but  the 
artist  has  caught  what  was,  after  all,  the  most  distinctive  quality 
of  his  nature,  the  eternal  child-likeness, — something  of  that  ex- 
pression on  his  face,  in  those  wonderful  afternoon  sermons  in 
Trinity  Church,  which  all  remember  and  cherish,  but  no  one 
can  describe. 

The  years  as  they  passed  over  him  did  not  diminish  the  beauty 
of  the  countenance  or  the  dignity  and  symmetry  of  form.     In 


CHARACTERISTICS  565 

any  company  he  carried  the  highest  distinction  in  appearance. 
He  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  ordinary  men,  but  so  sym- 
metrical were  his  proportions  that,  as  was  said  of  him  by  a  lady 
with  fine  discrimination,  it  was  not  he  that  looked  large  but  others 
that  looked  small.  He  stood  for  the  type  of  the  normal  man. 
"  He  was  the  most  beautiful  man  I  ever  saw,"  said  Justice  Har- 
lan of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States;  "I  sat  opposite  to 
him  once  at  dinner  and  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  him."  His 
photographs,  after  he  allowed  them  to  be  published,  were  to  be 
found  everywhere.  A  commercial  traveller,  who  had  gone  into 
almost  every  town  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  was  struck  with 
the  fact  that  everywhere  he  found  the  portrait  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
without  regard  to  difference  of  race  or  of  religion.  A  Roman 
Catholic  Sister  of  Charity  writes  on  receiving  his  photograph: 

"I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  for  that  lovely 
picture  of  one  of  the  loveliest  men  this  world  has  ever  known. 
...  I  like  any  one  who  likes  Phillips  Brooks.  What  a  hand- 
some face !  His  eyes  seem  to  be  looking  for  what  has  been  much 
sought,  but  looking  still,  searching  patiently,  satisfied  that  be- 
yond these  'mists  and  vapors'  and  'darkened  glasses'  all  is  clear. 
The  picture  now  hangs  alongside  of  a  beautiful  photograph  copy 
of  Hoffmann's  famous  Christ,  and  seems  at  home  there." 

At  times  he  appeared  to  rejoice  in  his  stature;  on  coming  into 
a  friend's  house  he  would  easily  place  his  hat  on  some  tall  book- 
case or  other  object  where  any  one  else  would  have  to  mount  on 
steps  to  reach  it ;  or  would  light  his  cigar  from  a  street  lamp.  Yet 
at  times,  also,  he  felt  his  height  as  an  annoyance,  saying  that  it 
made  him  feel  awkward  to  be  looking  down  on  every  one  in  the 
room. 

Phillips  Brooks  always  retained  a  lively  impression  of  the  call 
he  made  on  Dr.  Vinton,  just  after  the  failure  in  the  Boston 
Latin  School.  He  and  Dr.  Vinton  would  occasionally  revert  to 
the  subject  in  later  years,  trying  to  straighten  out  each  other's 
recollections.  Dr.  Vinton  maintained  that  Brooks  while  in 
college  had  avoided  him,  in  order  to  prevent  any  conversation 
on  the  subject  of  personal  religion.  When  Brooks  called  on  him 
for  advice  about  possible  openings  in  life,  Dr.  Vinton  improved 
the  opportunity.  Brooks  had  resented  at  the  time  the  attempt 
to  introduce  religion  and,  grateful  as  he  was  for  what  Dr.  Vinton 


566  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

had  done  for  him,  could  never  recall  the  circumstance  without 
the  memory  of  a  sense  of  injury  done  to  his  personality.  He 
would  say  to  Dr.  Vinton  when  the  subject  came  up,  "It  was 
mean  in  you  to  get  a  fellow  in  a  corner  and  throw  his  soul  at 
him."  Dr.  Vinton  was  fond  of  recalling  that  when  he  tried  to 
get  from  Brooks  some  idea  of  what  he  would  like  to  do  in  life, 
Brooks  had  replied:  "I  cannot  express  myself  very  clearly  about 
it,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  should  like  to  talk." 

He  was  careful  in  little  things,  in  his  dress  observing  great 
neatness,  but  avoiding,  on  principle,  every  badge  of  clerical  dress. 
Conscientiousness  marked  his  conduct,  not  only  in  dealing 
with  others,  but  with  himself.  When  he  returned  to  his  house, 
after  an  absence  or  journey,  to  find  many  invitations  awaiting 
him,  he  followed  the  rule  to  accept  them  in  the  order  in  which  he 
opened  the  letters,  not  allowing  himself  to  choose  which  he  would 
prefer.  It  was  a  principle  with  him  never  to  decline  an  invitation 
to  preach  unless  prevented  by  some  previous  engagement. 

He  was  particular  in  the  matter  of  correspondence,  in  the  later 
years  answering  letters  so  promptly  that  one  hesitated  to  write 
him  for  fear  of  increasing  his  burden.  He  wrote  his  letters  with 
his  own  hand,  and  in  most  beautiful  handwriting.  He  was  severe 
upon  illegible  or  even  ungraceful  handwriting. 

"  His  reticence  about  his  methods  of  work  is  shown  by  this 
anecdote.  A  clerical  friend  entering  his  study  took  up  from  the 
table  the  plan  of  a  sermon  just  finished.  'Oh,  is  this  the  way 
you  do  it?'  'Put  that  paper  down,'  said  Mr.  Brooks  sternly. 
'  No,  I  've  got  the  chance  and  I  'm  going  to  know  how  it  's  done.' 
'Put  that  down  or  leave  the  room.''  " 

His  wit  and  power  of  repartee  were  great,  but  it  would  be 
difficult  to  illustrate.  Here,  however,  are  instances  which  may 
bear  relating: 

"A  clergyman  who  was  going  abroad  to  study  said  in  jest  that 
when  he  came  back  he  might  bring  a  new  religion  with  him.  A 
person  who  was  present  said,  '  You  may  have  some  difficulty  in 
getting  it  through  the  custom  house.'  'No,'  said  Mr.  Brooks, 
'we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  a  new  religion  will  have  no 
duties  attached.'  " 

"He  contrasted  the  ancient  Church  with  the  modern  to  the 


CHARACTERISTICS  567 

effect  that  then  they  tried  to  save  their  young  men  from  being 
thrown  to  the  lions;  now  we  are  glad  if  we  can  save  them  from 
going  to  the  dogs." 

"'Why  is  it,'  said  a  friend  to  him,  'that  some  of  these  men 
who  call  themselves  atheists  seem  to  lead  such  moral  lives  ? ' 
'They  have  to;  they  have  no  God  to  forgive  them  if  they  don't.'  " 

His  love  of  clear  and  simple  humor  was  marked  and  emphatic, 
and  he  had  a  rippling  way  of  describing  ludicrous  scenes  which 
was  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  bubbling,  gurgling  brook,  laughing 
its  way  over  rock  and  stone  and  moss.  He  had  what  has  been 
called  "the  deep  wisdom  of  fine  fooling." 

"He  had  his  version  of  the  'Jonah'  narrative.  When  some 
one  was  wondering  at  the  possibility  of  Jonah  being  swallowed 
by  the  whale,  he  said,  'There  was  no  difficulty.  Jonah  was  one 
of  the  Minor  Prophets. '  " 

"The  same  charm  which  he  exerted  in  the  pulpit  was  felt  in 
social  festivities,  or  in  the  private  room.  No  one  else  seemed  to 
be  present  when  he  was  there.     He  filled  the  room." 

"I  can  remember  [wrote  Bishop  Westcott]  with  highest  pleas- 
ure a  visit  with  which  he  honored  me  in  my  room  at  the  Divinity 
School,  Cambridge.  His  genial  presence  seemed  to  fill  it,  and 
spread  around  an  atmosphere  of  energetic  life." 

"An  English  lady,  an  authoress  and  highly  cultivated,  spoke 
of  him  as  the  'enchanter  of  souls.'  " 

"He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  so-called  psychological 
investigations,  whose  object  was  to  communicate  with  the  de- 
parted. 'Why  is  it,'  he  once  said,  'that  mediums  always  live  at 
the  South  End?'" 

"He  burst  out  once  in  talking  of  a  person  with  rather  affected 
manners,  'If  only  people  would  be  simple!'  Very  reserved  peo- 
ple he  did  not  get  on  well  with, — he  was  too  reserved  himself  at 
once,  and  too  sensitive  to  atmosphere.  '  If  they  would  only  once 
express  themselves,'  he  said.  He  loved  people  as  people,  and 
always  wanted  to  'hear  about  folks.'  In  one  of  his  sermons  he 
speaks  of  what  he  felt  about  the  city  streets.  'To  prosperous 
men,  full  of  activity,  full  of  life,  the  city  streets,  overrunning  with 
human  vitality,  are  full  of  a  sympathy,  a  sense  of  human  fellow- 
ship, a  comforting  companionship  in  all  that  mass  of  unknown 
and,  as  it  were,  generic  men  and  women,  which  no  utterance  of 


563  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

special  friendship  or  pity  from  the  best  known  lips  can  bring. 
The  live  and  active  man  takes  his  trouble  out  on  the  crowded 
streets,  and  finds  it  comforted  by  the  mysterious  consolation  of 
his  race.  He  takes  his  perplexity  out  there,  and  its  darkness 
grows  bright  in  the  diffused,  unconscious  light  of  human  life.'  " 

"Sometimes  Brooks  displayed  strange  moods.  He  remained 
one  night  talking  with  Dr.  Vinton  in  his  study  till  it  got  to  be 
twelve  o'clock,  when  he  displayed  an  unaccountable  aversion  to 
going  back  to  his  house.  Dr.  Vinton  at  once  proposed  that  he 
should  spend  the  night,  and  a  room  was  made  ready  for  him. 
But  after  waiting  for  some  two  hours  longer  he  rose,  and  saying 
he  would  n't  make  a  fool  of  himself  he  went  home." 

"In  illustrating  his  preference  for  city  over  country  life,  he 
said:  'The  Bible  shows  how  the  world  progresses.  It  begins  with 
a  garden,  but  ends  with  a  holy  city.'  " 

"Commenting  upon  a  meeting  of  the  Church  Congress,  from 
which  he  had  just  returned,  he  said  the  speeches  were  like  towing 
ideas  out  to  sea  and  then  escaping  by  small  boats  in  the  fog." 

"Talking  with  an  American  gentleman  one  clear  evening,  in 
Japan,  about  some  late  discoveries  in  astronomy  and  the  enor- 
mous number  of  the  stars,  the  gentleman,  who  was  engaged  in  a 
study  of  Buddhism,  said,  '  If  we  have  a  life  to  live  in  each  one  of 
the  three  hundred  and  fifty  millions  we  have  quite  a  row  to  hoe.' 
'Ah,  well,'  said  Mr.  Brooks,  'if  they  are  as  beautiful  as  this  I  am 
willing.' " 

In  speaking  of  the  histrionic  art,  he  said  that  it  demanded  for 
success  weakness  rather  than  strength  of  character.  The  occa- 
sion which  led  him  to  speak  on  the  subject  was  an  effort  he  was 
making  to  prevent  a  young  girl  from  going  on  the  stage. 

His  presence  in  a  house  was  so  exciting  that  it  seemed  to  pene- 
trate every  part  of  it,  and  the  effect  was  long  in  subsiding 
after  he  had  left.  He  threw  family  discipline  to  the  winds.  He 
would  incite,  or  seem  to  do  so,  the  children  to  disobedience,  as 
though  law  and  order  in  the  household  were  a  sham;  like  some 
picture  from  Alice  in  Wonderland,  where  things  were  reversed  or 
lost  their  normal  relations.  To  considerations  of  personal  dig- 
nity of  bearing  he  would  become  oblivious,  romping  on  the  floor 
or  standing  as  Goliath  for  some  small  David  of  a  boy  to  use  his 
sling. 


CHARACTERISTICS  569 

It  was  often  annoying  that  he  would  not  talk  when  he  was 
expected  to  do  so,  maintaining  his  silence  when  people  had  been 
invited  to  meet  him.  On  one  of  his  visits  to  England,  the  Amer- 
ican minister,  Mr.  Lowell,  gave  him  a  dinner,  to  which  among 
others  he  had  invited  Mr.  Huxley  under  the  supposition  that  the 
two  men  would  enjoy  meeting  each  other.  Mr.  Huxley  talked, 
and  Mr.  Brooks  was  silent,  till  Mr.  Lowell  feared  he  had  made  a 
mistake;  but  Mr.  Brooks  afterwards  expressed  himself  as  having 
found  great  pleasure  in  Huxley's  conversation. 

He  had  the  gift  for  administration.  He  had  his  eye  on  every- 
thing, knew  all  that  was  going  on,  and  seemed  to  be  everywhere. 
When  anybody  wanted  to  do  anything,  he  would  make  himself 
master  of  the  situation  in  five  minutes.  But  he  dreaded  ma- 
chinery in  a  parish,  and  was  fearful  that  organization  might 
tyrannize  over  parishes.  He  did  not  at  first  welcome  the  St. 
Andrew's  Brotherhood.  He  had  already  his  Bible  class,  and 
thought  that  was  enough. 

He  once  said  that  he  did  n't  like  being  fifty.  He  did  n't  want 
to  be  left  behind.  Some  one  had  remarked  to  him,  "Your  gener- 
ation was  occupied  with  slavery;  ours  has  taken  up  sociology." 
"And  so,"  he  remarked,  "the  inference  is  that  I  am  to  be 
thrown  out." 

He  never  could  be  alone  except  when  he  was  travelling. 
"  Travelling  is  the  only  place  on  this  footstool  where  I  can  be  by 
myself."  "Why  don't  you  have  a  prophet's  chamber?"  He 
said  he  did  want  one  sometimes,  but  that  his  mission  was  to  see 
people.  That  was  what  he  was  here  for.  After  he  had  been  two 
weeks  by  himself,  he  hungered  for  people.  It  was  the  possibili- 
ties in  people  that  made  them  interesting. 

He  was  always  reading  while  he  was  travelling.  The  others 
might  be  looking  out  of  the  windows,  the  days  might  be  hot  and 
dusty,  but  he  continued  to  read.  He  threw  the  books  out  of  the 
window  when  he  had  finished  them. 

Once,  when  his  carriage  failed  to  come  till  it  was  too  late  to  get 
him  to  a  meeting,  he  expressed  himself  with  considerable  impa- 
tience, but  the  next  morning  went  over  to  the  livery  stable  office 
and  apologized  for  his  hastiness. 

The  moral  character  of  Phillips  Brooks  stands  out  clearly  in  his 
sermons.     Only  the  man  who  earnestly  sought  to  realize  in  him- 


57o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

self  the  ideal  he  was  perpetually  holding  up  to  his  hearers  could 
have  dared  to  enforce  it  as  he  did.  He  left  the  impression,  by 
his  appearance  and  his  speech,  of  goodness  and  of  inward  purity. 
But  "  Phillips  always  hated,  "  says  his  brother  John,  "  to  have 
people  remark  that  he  could  n't  help  being  good." 

Very  much  to  the  point  is  this  extract  from  a  sermon  entitled 
"The  Sea  of  Glass:" 

"  You  may  go  on  through  the  crowded  streets  of  heaven,  asking 
each  saint  how  he  came  there,  and  you  will  look  in  vain  every- 
where for  a  man  morally  and  spiritually  strong,  whose  strength 
did  not  come  to  him  in  struggle.  Will  you  take  the  man  who 
never  had  a  disappointment,  who  never  knew  a  want,  whose 
friends  all  love  him,  whose  health  never  knew  a  suspicion  of  its 
perfectness,  on  whom  every  sun  shines,  and  against  whose  sails 
all  winds,  as  if  by  special  commission,  are  sent  to  blow,  who  still 
is  great  and  good  and  true  and  unselfish  and  holy,  as  happy  in 
his  inner  as  in  his  outer  life.  Was  there  no  struggle  there  ?  Do 
you  suppose  that  man  has  never  wrestled  with  his  own  success 
and  happiness,  that  he  has  never  prayed,  and  emphasized  his 
prayer  with  labor,  'In  all  time  of  my  prosperity,  Good  Lord,  de- 
liver me ! '  '  Deliver  me ! '  That  is  the  cry  of  a  man  in  danger, 
of  a  man  with  an  antagonist.  For  years  that  man  and  his  pros- 
perity have  been  looking  each  other  in  the  face  and  grappling  one 
another, — and  that  is  a  supremacy  that  was  not  won  without 
a  struggle  than  which  there  is  no  harder  on  the  earth." 

The  intellectual  constitution  of  Phillips  BrooRs  puzzled  some 
of  his  contemporaries.  The  following  estimate  is  from  a  sermon 
by  Rev.  George  A.  Gordon,  pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church: 

"The  intellect  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  as  striking  as  the 
man.  There  was  in  it  a  platonic  subtlety,  sweep,  and  pene- 
tration, a  native  capacity  for  the  highest  speculations, — a  ca- 
pacity that  did  not  always  become  apparent,  because  he  passed 
at  once  like  a  flash  of  lightning  to  the  substance  of  things,  and 
because  he  believed  that  the  forms  of  the  understanding,  into 
which  the  highest  in  man  throws  its  findings,  are  at  best  only 
inadequate  symbols.  .  .  .  There  was  in  his  mind  a  Hindu  swift- 
ness, mobility,  penetrativeness,  and  mysticism.  .  .  .  Had  he 
chosen,  he  could  have  been  one  of  the  subtlest  metaphysicians, 
or  one  of  the  most  successful  analysts  of  the  human  heart, 
throwing  upon  his  screen  the  disentangled  and  accurately  classi- 
fied contents  of  the  soul.  But  he  chose,  as  indispensable  for  his 
calling,  to  let  the  artist  in  him  prevail,  to  do  all  his  thinking 


CHARACTERISTICS  571 

through  the  forms  of  the  imagination,  and  to  give  truth  a  body 
corresponding,  as  far  as  possible,  to  its  own  ineffable  beauty. 
Thus  it  happens  that  the  sermons  with  the  noblest  form,  with 
the  greatest  completeness,  and  the  finest  artistic  quality  have 
come  from  his  mind." 

A  similar  judgment  was  expressed  by  the  Rev.  William  R. 
Huntington,  rector  of  Grace  Church,  New  York: 

"The  powerful  intellect  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  not  of  the 
dogmatic  bent.  Had  it  been,  he  never  could  have  done  the  work 
he  did,  for  religion  in  Boston  had  suffered  in  times  past  from 
overmuch  dogmatizing,  and  men  were  weary  of  that  vein;  they 
thought  of  it  as  worked  out.  But  this  new  teacher,  himself  es- 
sentially a  poet,  came  to  them  holding  up  splendid  pictures  of 
truth.  'I  do  not  care  to  argue  it  out  with  you,'  he  seemed  to 
say, '  only  look  and  see ! '  " 

In  the  constitution  of  every  man  of  genius  there  is  perpet- 
uated the  heart  of  childhood;  in  the  words  of  Balzac,  "Dans 
tout  l'homme  de  ge'nie,  il  y  a  un  enfant."  In  one  of  his  note- 
books Phillips  Brooks  has  written,  "The  need  of  something  child- 
like in  the  fullest  character.  A  man  wholly  manlike  is  only  half 
a  man."  There  is  no  better  description  of  Phillips  Brooks  than 
in  Coleridge's  definition  of  the  working  of  genius: 

"I  define  genius  as  originality  in  intellectual  construction;  the 
moral  accompaniment  and  actuating  principle  of  which  consists 
perhaps  in  the  carrying  on  the  freshness  and  feelings  of  childhood 
into  the  powers  of  manhood.  ...  To  combine  the  child's  sense 
of  wonder  and  novelty  with  the  appearances  which  every  day  for 
perhaps  forty  years  has  rendered  familiar,  this  is  the  character 
and  privilege  of  genius  and  one  of  the  marks  which  distinguish 
genius  from  talent.  And  so  to  represent  familiar  objects  as  to 
awaken  in  the  minds  of  others  like  freshness  of  sensation  concern- 
ing them  is  the  prime  merit  of  genius  and  its  most  unequivocal 
mode  of  manifestation." 

It  would  be  unjust  to  Phillips  Brooks  to  class  him  either  as 
a  radical  or  a  conservative.  He  clung  to  old  ways,  held  the 
past  in  profound  reverence,  and  at  the  same  time  had  a  strong 
liking  for  new  things  and  new  ways/  He  approved  the  cause  of 
woman  suffrage,  though  he  never  publicly  advocated  it;  he 
accepted  the  principle  of  "cremation,"  giving  the  use  of  his 


572  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

name  to  further  its  adoption.  He  thought  there  was  truth  in 
the  modern  theory  of  the  power  of  mind  in  healing  disease,  and 
welcomed  it  as  a  protest  against  established  methods  of  medical 
practice.  But  he  condemned  as  irrational  the  so-called  meta- 
physical principles  by  which  it  was  explained.  He  did  not 
commit  himself  to  methods  of  sociological  reform,  dreading  in 
this  line  of  work,  as  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  the  danger  of  relying 
on  machinery,  of  treating  men  as  a  class,  rather  than  as  individu- 
als. In  theology  he  retained  his  reverence  for  ancient  dogmas, 
but  he  sympathized  with  efforts  at  their  restatement  in  order  to 
meet  more  forcibly  the  present  age.  It  was  not  necessary  to 
reject  the  work  of  the  past  in  order  to  accept  the  modern  view. 
If  it  seemed  as  if  there  were  contradiction  in  this  attitude,  he 
harmonized  it  b}r  a  deeper  power  of  synthesis  in  his  nature.  He 
appeared  to  be  entirely  the  child  of  his  age;  in  reality,  he  was 
effectively  resisting  his  environment  in  many  directions.  A 
keen  observer  remarked  of  him  that,  "with  a  type  of  genius 
that  linked  him  largely  with  the  outreaching  faith  and  self- 
denial  of  an  age  of  greater  faith  than  this,  he  had  all  the  practi- 
cal keenness  of  vision  that  linked  him  to  the  present." 

There  was  one  feature  in  the  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks  so 
extraordinary  that  it  might  be  regarded  as  phenomenal, — his 
power  of  reaching  people  of  every  phase  of  religious  belief. 
Religious  differences  and  divisions  did  not  vanish  or  lose  their 
power  under  the  influence  of  his  appeal ;  but  were  so  deepened  and 
justified  that  every  religious  body  was  inclined  to  call  him  its 
own.  He  preached  as  if  it  had  been  his  peculiar  privilege  to  learn 
the  great  variety  of  religious  dialects,  and  to  speak  with  freedom 
and  power  in  them  all.  It  is  a  circumstance  deserving  study 
and  has  more  than  a  passing  significance.  He  had  the  genius  for 
religion,  in  itself,  apart  from  any  of  its  embodiments.  All  bore 
the  same  testimony  to  his  power  of  lifting  them  up  to  a  higher 
plane  where  their  beliefs  were  transfigured  in  a  diviner  light. 
Among  Methodists  he  revived  the  sense  of  what  Wesley  must 
have  been  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power.  To  Baptists  he 
brought  home  anew  the  importance  of  the  conviction  for  which 
they  stood, — the  individual  as  the  final  resort  of  spiritual  au- 
thority. To  Congregationalists  he  spoke  pre-eminently,  as 
though  he  still  remained  in  the  fold  of  his  ancestors,  and  had 


CHARACTERISTICS  5  73 

known  no  alien  influence.     In  his  freedom  and  his  appeal  to 

humanity  he  met  the  Unitarian.  Free  Religionists  were  desirous 
to  secure  him  as  a  speaker  at  their  assemblies.  When  he  went 
to  England  he  seemed  to  reflect  the  best  type  of  Anglican  theology. 
The  rector  of  a  large  London  church  wrote  to  him,  "The  secret 
by  which  you  make  us  High  Churchmen  enthusiastic  about  you 
remains  unexplained  to  me."  A  lady  who  was  a  Swedenborgian 
in  her  religious  belief,  remarked  as  she  came  away  from  listening  to 
him  that  Dr.  Brooks  was  a  Swedenborgian.  She  was  told  that 
others  said  the  same  thing  of  him,  that  Unitarians  claimed  him, 
that  Methodists  held  him  as  one  of  their  own,  and  so  in  other 
churches.  She  said  in  reply  that  she  knew;  Swedenborgians  had 
certain  unfailing  tests  of  knowing,  and  she  could  not  be  mistaken. 
Indeed,  so  far  did  this  conviction  carry  people,  that  they  would 
sooner  have  believed  that  Mr.  Brooks  was  mistaken,  or  did  not 
understand  himself,  than  that  they  could  possibly  be  mistaken 
in  their  judgment  about  him. 

A  Roman  Catholic  wrote :  "I  feel  a  queer  sort  of  soul  kindred 
with  him.  I  should  like  to  have  known  and  talked  with  him. 
Though  we  should  not  have  agreed  on  all  points,  I  am  sure  we 
would  have  been  friends." 

The  situation  was  a  puzzling  one  to  many.  It  had  also  its 
dangerous  side,  for  it  was  easily  misunderstood.  Few  were  capa- 
ble of  comprehending  how  any  one  mind  could  rise  to  the  uni- 
versality of  the  religious  appeal,  without  disloyalty  to  his  own 
household  of  faith.  Criticism  of  this  kind  was  not  uncommon, 
and  has  its  pathological  aspect:  "There  is  no  question  as  to 
Mr.  Brooks's  honor,  his  sincerity,  his  devotion  to  truth  as  he 
sees  it,  to  the  church  as  he  believes  in  it,  and  to  God  as  he  under- 
stands his  duty  to  God.  But  his  attitude  is  logically  indefen- 
sible. Grant  his  premises,  and  there  is  no  reasonable  way  for 
stopping  where  he  stops."  There  was  danger  that  a  great 
religious  genius  would  be  entangled  by  these  Liliputian  snags 
of  sectarianism. 

But  Phillips  Brooks  thought  of  himself  primarily  as  a  parish 
minister  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  In  every  respect  he  was 
orthodox,  judged  by  the  formularies  of  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  and  to  its  rubrics  he  rigidly  adhered.  If  he  seemed  out 
of  harmony  with  prevailing  popular  opinions,  it  was  because  he 


574  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

had  risen  to  the  full  height  of  Anglican  orthodoxy  where  others 
had  fallen  short  or  departed  from  it.  Objection  was  made  some- 
times to  his  conception  of  the  Incarnation — that  humanity  as  a 
whole,  and  not  solely  the  Church,  was  the  body  of  Christ, — 
but  the  doctrine  finds  its  warrant  in  the  Church  Catechism,  where 
it  is  said  that  Christ  has  redeemed  the  whole  body  of  mankind. 
When  it  came  to  confirmation,  his  usage  was  strict  in  requiring 
unmistakable  evidence  that  the  candidate  had  experienced  the 
sense  of  a  conscious  love  toward  God.  Some  thought  it  was 
enough  in  candidates  for  confirmation  if  they  were  ready  to 
"  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works,"  even  if  they  had  gone 
through  no  "religious  experience."  He  fell  back  for  his  sanction 
on  the  Church  Catechism,  where  in  reply  to  the  question,  "What 
is  thy  duty  toward  God?"  the  child  is  taught  to  answer,  "My 
duty  toward  God  is  to  believe  in  Him,  to  fear  Him,  and  to  love 
Him  with  all  my  heart,  with  all  my  mind,  and  with  all  my  soul 
and  with  all  my  strength."  He  called  for  no  conventional  tests 
as  evidence  of  the  love  for  God,  but  in  conversation  with  the 
candidate  satisfied  himself  of  the  beginning  of  a  new  life.  In 
these  personal  interviews  he  was  gentle,  yet  searching,  appre- 
ciative of  the  faintest  signs  of  the  awakening  spiritual  life.  He 
never  forgot  that  it  was  God's  own  child  with  whom  he  was  con- 
versing in  order  to  know  if  the  relationship  to  the  Eternal  Father 
were  consciously  felt  and  acknowledged.  He  preserved  in  a 
separate  package  the  letters  written  to  him  by  young  boys  and 
girls,  where  with  inadequate  language  was  expressed  the  desire 
to  live  for  God. 

In  order  that  the  significance  of  the  Lord's  Supper  as  the  rite 
of  Christian  fellowship  might  not  be  obscured,  he  refused  to 
multiply  communion  services,  keeping  the  feast  on  the  first 
Sunday  in  the  month,  at  the  mid-day  service.  When  the 
number  of  communicants  became  inconveniently  large,  he  made 
one  concession,  and  allowed  an  earlier  communion.  A  com- 
munion service  at  Trinity  Church  became  a  most  impressive 
spectacle,  when  the  congregation  seemed  to  rise  as  a  whole  and 
surround  the  Lord's  Table.  To  the  influence  of  this  service,  a 
young  Japanese  student  confessed  that  he  owed  his  conversion 
to  Christianity. 

Another  feature  of  the  parish  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks  was 


CHARACTERISTICS  575 

his  effort  to  make  "Trinity  Church  the  most  hospitable  church 
in  Boston."  This  was  an  expansion  of  the  parish  ministry,  for 
the  number  of  those  who  sought  access  to  Trinity  was  large  and 
always  increasing.  Young  men  and  young  women  from  every 
part  of  the  country  came  to  Boston,  and  from  England  also, 
with  letters  intrusting  them  to  his  care,  opening  with  the  familiar 
formula:  "May  I  introduce  and  commend  to  your  confidence,  as 
if  he  were  my  own  son,  my  young  friend,"  etc.  His  correspon- 
dence abounds  with  such  requests  from  parents  whose  children 
were  going  out  into  the  world,  from  ministers  of  churches  of 
every  denomination,  concerned  for  the  welfare  of  their  young 
people,  from  personal  friends  who  intrusted  their  sons  and  daugh- 
ters to  his  solicitude.  There  were  instances  when  other  interests 
of  his  life  were  placed  aside,  in  order  that  he  might  devote  him- 
self to  one  single  case  of  need  where  his  sense  of  responsibility 
had  become  to  him  the  one  absorbing  duty  of  the  moment. 
The  popular  faith  in  his  power  to  work  marvels  is  illustrated  in 
the  story  of  two  poor  women  in  Salem,  belonging  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  who  had  never  seen  or  heard  him,  one  of  whom 
tells  the  other  who  is  bemoaning  her  boy  falling  into  evil  ways — 
the  thing  to  do  is  to  take  him  to  Phillips  Brooks. 

His  relations  with  schools  and  institutions  of  learning  of  every 
kind  form  another  line  of  the  extension  of  his  pastoral  activity. 
The  attempt  cannot  be  made  to  give  the  list  of  those  asking  for 
his  presence.  Some  of  these  invitations  were  most  urgent. 
"Among  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  globe,"  so  runs  an  invitation 
from  Yale,  "you  are  our  first  choice.  If  you  can  not  write  lec- 
tures, bring  any  of  your  old  sermons."  Next  after  Harvard 
came  Yale  and  the  Boston  Institute  of  Technology,  with 
which  his  relationship  was  most  close.  He  went  often  to  Cornell 
at  the  invitation  of  President  White,  and  to  Williams  College  un- 
der President  Carter.  In  1884  he  was  chosen  president  of  the 
Harvard  Alumni  Association.  The  letter  of  invitation  to  give  a 
course  of  lectures  at  Johns  Hopkins  University  read:  "  You,  better 
than  any  one  else  we  can  think  of,  can  reach  the  minds  of  those 
who  will  be  here  assembled."  He  was  one  of  the  trustees  of 
Groton  School,  of  which  Rev.  Endicott  Peabody  was  the  founder 
and  headmaster.  In  1887  he  wrote  the  Groton  School  Hymn, 
which  has  since  been  sung  on  the  greater  days  in  the  school  life. 


576  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

He  stood  in  intimate  relations  with  theological  schools,  especially 
Andover  and  Cambridge;  on  the  Methodist  Divinity  Sckool  con- 
nected with  Boston  University  he  made  his  influence  felt  for 
twenty  years  upon  every  class  going  forth  from  its  walls.  His 
interest  in  young  men  while  in  college,  says  Bishop  Lawrence, 
surpassed  the  interest  he  felt  in  them  after  they  had  entered  upon 
their  course  of  professional  study.  So  long  as  there  was  the  un- 
developed possibility,  his  interest  was  at  the  height,  for  his  imag- 
ination was  touched  at  the  prospect. 

His  association  with  women's  colleges  should  be  mentioned, 
where  he  often  went  to  preach.  He  was  elected  an  honorary 
member  of  the  class  of  1889  at  Wellesley  College,  of  the  class  of 
1890  at  Mt.  Holyoke  College,  and  of  the  class  of  1891  at  Wheaton 
Seminary. 

In  1886  a  course  of  lectures  was  projected  at  Harvard  on  the 
different  professions,  each  to  be  given  by  one  who  occupied  the 
foremost  rank.  Phillips  Brooks  spoke  for  the  ministry.  One 
who  was  present  describes  the  effect: 

"I  was  there  in  Sever  11,  and  it  was  an  occasion  in  the  life  of 
Brooks, — a  great  opportunity,  and  he  realized  it.  The  hall  was 
never  more  crowded.  Students  stood  and  sat  on  the  window- 
seats;  they  seemed  to  be  on  each  other's  shoulders.  He  tried  to 
be  cool  and  philosophical,  and  tell  them  what  the  ministry  was 
like,  as  previous  speakers  had  told  of  the  other  professions, — he 
started  in  that  way,  but  the  mass  of  the  young  men  and  the 
upturned  faces  and  the  subject  got  the  better  of  him,  till,  throw- 
ing philosophy  and  cool  statement  to  the  winds,  he  broke  out,  '  I 
can't  come  here  and  talk  to  you  of  the  ministry  as  one  of  the  pro- 
fessions. I  must  tell  you  that  it  is  the  noblest  and  most  glorious 
calling  to  which  a  man  can  give  himself.'  The  torrent  once  loose, 
it  did  not  cease  till  it  reached  the  deep  calm  of  his  closing  words. 
One  was  almost  afraid  that  the  whole  body  of  young  men  would 
rise  on  the  impulse  and  cry,  'Here  am  I,  send  me!'  That  was 
a  great  speech,  for  its  feeling  and  its  thought." 

He  was  a  defender  of  Harvard  against  any  objection  on  the 
score  of  religious  dangers  to  be  encountered  there.  To  a  young 
man  asking  his  advice,  where  he  should  go  to  college,  he  wrote : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  28,  1887. 

"I  think  that  it  (Harvard)  was  never  so  good  a  place  for  the 
life  and  study  of  a  young  man  as  it  is  to-day.     I  have  known  it 


CHARACTERISTICS  577 

for  the  last  thirty-six  years,  and  watched  it  closely  all  that  time. 
It  has  improved  and  ripened  steadily,  until  it  may  be  said  to-day, 
with  no  disparagement  to  other  colleges,  that  nowhere  can  a  bet- 
ter education  be  obtained  than  at  Harvard. 

"There  are  young  men  there  of  every  form  of  religious  faith, 
and  many  who  have  no  faith.  There  are  scoffers,  perhaps  there 
are  blasphemers.  There  are  also  earnest,  noble,  consecrated 
Christian  men,  and  many  souls  seeking  a  light  and  truth  which 
they  have  not  yet  found.  You  meet  in  the  college  what  you  will 
meet  in  the  world.  You  will  have  to  choose  what  you  will  be, 
as  you  will  have  to  choose  all  your  life.  You  will  find  all  the  help 
which  Christian  friends  and  Christian  services  can  give  to  a  young 
man  whose  real  reliance  must  be  on  God  and  his  own  soul.  I 
hope  that  you  will  come." 

Any  sketch  of  the  pastoral  activity  of  Phillips  Brooks  must 
include  his  relation  to  children.  He  read  them  by  the  power  of 
his  imagination  and  by  close  contact  with  child  life.  His  love 
went  forth  from  their  infancy  to  the  children  of  his  brother  Wil- 
liam. He  made  it  a  rule  to  go  to  his  brother's  house  on  Sunday 
evenings.  He  had  the  children  learn  the  poems  which  he  liked, 
and,  preserving  the  tradition  of  his  father's  household,  he  called 
for  their  repetition.  He  took  the  children  with  him  when  he  went 
to  buy  the  Christmas  presents,  enjoining  them  to  forget  all  they 
knew  about  them  until  Christmas  came.  It  was  a  rule  that  no 
presents  were  to  be  looked  at  until  Uncle  Phillips  came  to  din- 
ner on  Christmas  Day,  after  service  in  church  was  over.  When 
Gertrude  was  old  enough,  he  made  her  his  companion,  taking 
her  with  him  on  his  journeys  or  when  going  to  Cambridge,  and 
often  insisting  on  her  being  at  the  rectory  for  breakfast. 
J  To  be  with  children  seemed  to  give  him  more  pleasure  than 
anything  else  in  life.  He  was  much  in  demand  for  children's 
schools.  On  one  occasion  he  was  disappointed  when  he  went  to 
a  home  for  children  in  the  suburbs  of  Boston  one  Sunday  after- 
noon, expecting  a  good  time  in  playing  and  romping  with  them, 
to  find  that  advantage  had  been  taken  of  his  coming  to  invite 
an  audience  of  adults,  whose  contribution  to  the  support  of  the 
home  it  was  desirable  to  obtain.  He  went  to  the  window  and 
stood  there  in  silence,  after  having  made  his  remonstrance. 
There  were  the  children  in  various  institutions  whom  he  carried 
in  his  heart;  there  were  the  children  in  many  households  where 
he  visited,  who  rejoiced  at  his  coming  and  claimed  him  as  a  friend. 


578  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Helen  Keller  was  intrusted  to  his  care  by  her  father,  who  wished 
that  her  first  religious  instruction  should  come  from  Phillips 
Brooks.  He  sounded  the  depths  of  that  young  soul,  and  gave 
to  her  the  idea  of  God.  He  was  impressed  with  the  remark  she 
made  after  the  first  conversation,  that  she  had  always  known 
that  there  was  a  God,  but  had  not  known  before  His  name.  She 
continued  to  write  letters  to  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  In  one  of 
his  letters  he  tells  her,  "The  reason  why  we  love  our  friends  is 
because  God  loves  us."1 

Still  another  sphere  into  which  the  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks 
expanded  was  among  those,  to  be  counted  by  the  thousands,  who 
had  never  seen  or  heard  him  but  knew  him  by  the  reading  of  his 
books.  Letters  constantly  came  to  him,  telling  him, — it  almost 
seems  in  exaggerated  strain, — how  much  he  had  done.  These 
letters  were  to  him  like  the  staying  up  of  Moses's  arms  when  he 
engaged  in  prayer.  A  friend  recalls  his  words :  "  Do  not  be  chary 
of  appreciation.  Hearts  are  unconsciously  hungry  for  it.  There 
is  little  danger,  especially  with  us  in  this  cold  New  England  re- 
gion, that  appreciation  shall  be  given  too  abundantly." 

The  power  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  the  sick-room  was  recognized 
as  something  wonderful  and  rare.  A  mysterious  influence  went 
forth  from  him  for  good,  for  strength  and  life,  even  when  he  sat 
down  by  tbe  bedside  and  no  words  were  spoken.  He  had  a  gift 
for  inspiriting  people  who  were  depressed  or  had  lost  heart  for 
their  work.  A  word  from  him  would  send  them  to  their 
tasks  again,  with  renewed  energy.  What  he  said  to  a  young 
woman,  tired  with  the  care  of  an  invalid  mother,  may  illustrate, 
even  without  his  voice  and  presence,  how  he  dealt  with  the  dis- 
heartened, "Go  on  taking  care  of  your  mother,  and  when  she  is 
gone,  God  will  take  care  of  you." 

The  letters  he  wrote  to  people  in  affliction,  if  gathered  together, 
would  form  a  considerable  volume.  He  attracted  them,  as  he  did 
the  poor,  the  sick,  the  outcast,  by  some  force  which  he  did  not 
consciously  exercise,  and  yet  of  whose  existence  he  was  aware. 
In  the  letters  of  condolence  there  is  one  sentence  which  reads, 
"God  never  takes  away  what  he  has  once  given." 

So  far  as  is  known  Phillips  Brooks  spoke  rarely  about  his 
preaching,  and  even  of  his  few  references  little  can  be  recalled. 

i  Cf-  Letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  Helen  Keller,  Boston,  1893. 


CHARACTERISTICS  579 

These  personal  reminiscences  and  comments    which  follow  are 
worth  preserving: 

"In  his  morning  sermons  he  was  more  formal  and  even  violent ; 
but  as  the  day  went  on  he  came  to  himself  and  was  more  calm." 

"  I  say  many  things  [he  once  remarked]  in  the  afternoon  which 

I  should  never  think  of  saying  in  the  morning." 

"  He  was  always  gathering  hints  [said  one  who  knew  him 
well],  from  those  who  had  talked  with  him.  He  would  take  up 
their  remarks  in  an  impersonal  way.  It  was  always  so  in  every 
sermon." 

"  He  preached  a  sermon  in  Huntington  Hall  on  the  '  Martyrs 
beneath  the  Throne,'  and  was  depressed  because  he  had  failed: 

I I  have  n't  told  the  people  what  was  in  that  text.' " 

"  He  was  asked  whether  it  was  easier  to  preach  extempore  or 
written  sermons.  'In  preparation  there  should  be  no  difference. 
But  extempore  preaching  depends  on  moods.'" 

"His  tendency  to  stumble  in  preaching  was  partly  owing  to 
his  habit  of  using  a  lead  pencil  to  make  corrections,  especially 
before  preaching  a  sermon  a  second  time.  These  inserted  words 
and  phrases  were  in  a  fine  handwriting,  and  looked  somewhat 
dim  compared  with  the  bold  manner  of  his  manuscript.  When  he 
came  to  them  in  preaching  they  were  like  obstructions  thrown 
across  the  track  of  the  rushing  engine. 

"When  he  preached  extemporaneously,  he  reminded  one  of  a 
hound  who  does  not  at  once  catch  the  scent,  but  having  caught 
it,  goes  off  with  a  rush  at  his  highest  speed." 

To  the  contemporaneous  descriptions,  already  given,  of  the 
power  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  a  preacher,  may  be  added  these  tes- 
timonies which  express  in  better  form  what  the  people  were  say- 
ing. "He  seemed,"  said  the  eminent  New  Testament  scholar, 
Professor  J.  H.  Thayer,  "to  have  the  leverage  for  moving  the 
world."  "He  makes  us  feel  strong,"  was  the  comment  of  Dr. 
Frazer,  bishop  of  Manchester.  "By  common  consent,"  said 
President  Tucker  of  Dartmouth  College,  "no  one  has  translated 
so  much  of  the  Christian  religion  into  thought  and  life."  The 
President  of  Syracuse  University,  Dr.  Day,  spoke  of  his  universal 
sympathy : 


58o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"Marvellously  did  he  bring,  out  of  that  wonderful  gospel, 
teachings  which  appeal  to  the  profound  and  the  learned,  and 
plain  lessons  which  also  help  the  unlettered;  so  that  the  deep- 
thinking  were  introduced  to  the  profoundest  philosophy,  and  the 
hurried  man  felt  that  somehow  the  hour  and  the  lesson  were  for 
him,  and  that  he  could  go  out  and  work  noble  manhood  out  of 
the  commonest  callings  of  life.  The  scholar  said,  '  He  is  of  us,' 
and  the  unlettered  said,  '  He  is  of  us.'  The  poor  said,  '  He  is  of 
us,'  and  the  rich  said,  '  He  is  of  us.'  To  the  young  he  was  full  of 
mirth  and  buoyancy;  to  the  troubled  he  was  a  man  deeply  ac- 
quainted with  grief.  All  men,  of  all  classes  and  conditions, 
claimed  him,  because  in  his  magnificent  heart  and  sympathy  he 
seemed  to  be  all  men,  and  to  enter  into  their  disappointments 
and  into  their  successes,  and  to  make  them  his  own." 

Of  the  manv  attempts  to  explain  what  was  called  the  secret 
of  his  strength,  it  may  be  said  that  they  were  so  many  contribu- 
tions to  the  problem,  but  the  secret  remained  unsolved.  It  was 
said  of  him  that  he  had  "the  genius  for  religion  and  for  preach- 
ing. When  he  preaches,  he  becomes  almost  as  completely  the 
voice  of  the  Spirit  as  Shakespeare  is  the  voice  of  nature.  He 
draws  his  illustrations  not  from  his  religious  autobiography,  but 
from  the  spiritual  biography  of  the  race."  Professor  Everett, 
of  Harvard,  said  of  him: 

"  We  have  to  recognize  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  a  man  of  gen- 
ius. He  was  as  truly  such  as  any  of  our  great  poets.  It  is  not 
important,  nor,  indeed,  would  it  be  possible,  to  make  a  compara- 
tive estimate  of  his  genius  with  that  of  any  specified  poet  or  artist. 
All  that  is  to  our  purpose  is  to  notice  the  fact  of  his  wonderful 
genius,  and  to  illustrate,  as  may  be  possible,  its  nature  and  its 
methods.  .  .  .  There  are  comparatively  few  in  whom  the  special 
genius  which  marks  the  truest  preacher  as  such  makes  itself  felt. 
This  genius  was  pre-eminently  the  gift  of  Phillips  Brooks." 

The  late  Professor  A.  B.  Bruce,  of  Glasgow  University,  when 
asked  how  Phillips  Brooks  compared  with  great  preachers  in 
Scotland  and  England,  said  in  reply,  using  a  homely  but  striking 
figure: 

"It  is  this  way:  our  great  preachers  take  into  the  pulpit  a 
bucket  full  or  half  full  of  the  Word  of  God,  and  then,  by  the 
force  of  personal  mechanism,  they  attempt  to  convey  it  to  the 
congregation.  But  this  man  is  just  a  great  water  main,  at- 
tached to  the  everlasting  reservoir  of  God's  truth  and  grace  and 


CHARACTERISTICS  581 

love,  and  streams  of  life,  by  a  heavenly  gravitation,  pour  through 
him  to  refresh  every  weary  soul." 

An  eminent  scholar  and  writer,  the  Right.  Hon.  James  Bryce 
(now  the  English  ambassador  to  this  country),  spoke  of  him  in 
comparison  with  other  preachers, — Bishop  Wilberforce,  Dr. 
Candlish,  Mr.  Spurgeon,  Dr.  Liddon,  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher: 

"All  these  famous  men  were,  in  a  sense,  more  brilliant,  that 
is  to  say,  more  rhetorically  effective,  than  Dr.  Brooks,  yet  none 
of  them  seemed  to  speak  so  directly  to  the  soul.  With  all  of 
them  it  was  impossible  to  forget  the  speaker  in  the  words  spoken, 
because  the  speaker  did  not  seem  to  have  quite  forgotten  himself, 
but  to  have  studied  the  effect  he  sought  to  produce.  With  him 
it  was  otherwise.  What  amount  of  preparation  he  may  have 
given  to  his  discourses  I  do  not  know.  But  there  was  no  sign  of 
art  about  them,  no  touch  of  self-consciousness.  He  spoke  to  his 
audience  as  a  man  might  speak  to  his  friend,  pouring  forth  with 
swift,  yet  quiet  and  seldom  impassioned,  earnestness  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  a  singularly  pure  and  lofty  spirit.  The  listeners 
never  thought  of  style  or  manner,  but  only  of  the  substance  of 
the  thoughts.  They  were  entranced  and  carried  out  of  them- 
selves by  the  strength  and  sweetness  and  beauty  of  the  aspects  of 
religious  truth  and  its  helpfulness  to  weak  human  nature  which 
he  presented.  Dr.  Brooks  was  the  best  because  the  most  edifying 
of  preachers.  .  .  .  There  was  a  wealth  of  keen  observation,  fine 
reflection,  and  insight  both  subtle  and  imaginative,  all  touched 
with  a  warmth  and  tenderness  which  seemed  to  transfuse  and 
irradiate  the  thought  itself.  In  this  blending  of  perfect  simpli- 
city of  treatment  with  singular  fertility  and  elevation  of  thought, 
no  other  among  the  famous  preachers  of  the  generation  that  is 
now  vanishing  approached  him." 

Mr.  Bryce  has  also  described  one  characteristic  of  Phillips 
Brooks's  preaching,  in  some  respects  more  extraordinary  and 
inexplicable  than  any  other, — his  power  of  excitation  over  an 
audience : 

"He  rose  in  his  first  few  sentences  like  a  strong-winged  bird, 
into  a  serene  atmosphere  of  meditation,  stilling  and  thrilling 
the  crowd  that  filled  the  chapel  like  a  strain  of  solemn  music. 
Few  have  possessed  in  equal  measure  the  power  of  touching 
what  is  best  in  men,  and  lifting  them  suddenly  by  sympathetic 
words  to  the  elevation  of  high-strung  feeling  and  purpose  which 
they  cannot  reach  of  themselves,  save  under  some  wave  of 
emotion  due  to  some  personal  crisis  in  life." 


582  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Among  those  who  followed  the  career  of  Phillips  Brooks,  no 
one  was  better  fitted  than  the  late  Dr.  R.  S.  Storrs  of  Brooklyn, 
himself  a  scholar  and  a  preacher  of  the  foremost  rank,  to  describe 
the  characteristics  of  the  man  which  lay  behind  the  force  mani- 
fested in  the  pulpit.  He  has  clothed  the  truth  of  his  tribute  to 
Phillips  Brooks  in  these  beautiful  words: 

"There  was  in  him  a  majesty  and  strength  of  spirit,  as  of 
person,  which  all  had  to  recognize,  and  were  glad  to  recognize; 
but  with  this  was  the  utmost,  loveliest  gentleness  and  tenderness 
which  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shadiest  places,  among  the  humblest 
families  whom  he  visited.  There  was  that  unsurpassed  affluence 
of  nature  and  of  culture,  but  with  it  there  was  the  beautiful  sim- 
plicity of  spirit,  as  of  the  vital  air,  as  of  the  sunshine  which 
irradiates  and  bathes  the  earth, — a  simplicity  as  childlike  as  one 
ever  saw  in  a  human  soul.  There  was  his  utter  devotion  to  the 
highest  ideals  of  duty  and  of  truth,  and  his  keenest  apprehension 
of  the  beauty  and  authority  of  these  ideals;  and  yet  there  was 
with  this  the  most  sympathetic  interest,  habitual  and  spon- 
taneous, in  humble  persons,  and  in  the  common  affairs  of  life,  his 
own  or  others.  There  was  that  marvellous  eloquence,  yet  con- 
secrated always,  in  its  utmost  reach  and  rush,  to  the  service  of 
the  Master,  to  the  giving  of  the  message  which  the  Master  had 
given  him  for  the  souls  of  men.  And  with  all  the  self-respecting 
consciousness  which  he  could  not  but  possess,  and  with  all  the 
admiration  and  love  and  honor  which  have  surrounded  him  as 
almost  no  other  of  his  time,  there  was  that  marvellous  modesty 
which  shrank  from  anything  of  self-assertion  or  assumption 
over  others,  and  which  showed  to  the  last  no  more  of  either  of 
these  than  when  he  had  been  a  boy  in  school,  or  a  freshman  in 
college.  It  was  this  combination  of  qualities,  interblending 
with  each  other,  representing  the  golden  hemispheres  of  the 
perfect  globe,  which  gave  a  something  unique  and  mystical  to 
the  spirit  of  Phillips  Brooks." 

From  his  youth  Phillips  Brooks  had  kept  himself  in  close 
association  with  the  lives  of  great  men.  The  following  extract 
is  from  his  note-book,  as  he  was  preparing  to  speak  in  Trinity 
Church  on  Washington's  Birthday,  which  in  1891  fell  on  Sunday. 
He  took  for  his  text,  "  Whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  minister": 

"It  is  the  day  of  a  great  man  to-day.  This  kind  of  festival 
nobler  than  the  festival  of  an  event.     The  latter  is  the  presence 


CHARACTERISTICS  583 

of  God's  power,  the  former  a  presence  of  God  himself.  Great 
men  are  the  treasures  and  inspirations  of  the  nation.  Let  us 
think  this  morning  of  Great   Men. 

"The  vague  yet  certain  process  of  their  discrimination.  Let 
us  admire  the  human  instinct !  No  one  can  tell  why  this  or  that 
one  stands  out,  but  he  does.  The  others  fade  away.  Luther, 
Cromwell,  Washington:  the  estimates  vary,  but  the  conclusion 
is  clear.  The  sense  of  accident  and  circumstance  comes  in:  the 
'mute,  inglorious  Milton'  theory;  the  subtle  proof  that  the 
other  man  is  greater.  Yet  still  the  element  of  timeliness  to  be 
regarded.  There  are  men  who  are  out  of  time;  the  need  of  get- 
ting a  little  distance  off  to  see  the  prominence  of  some,  to  catch  up 
with  others.  But  the  few  great  men  stand.  Others  sometimes 
added,  but  almost  never  is  one  extinguished.  Position  cannot 
make  or  disguise. 

"The  question  whether  they  are  different  in  kind  or  in  degree 
from  other  men.  Both.  Difference  of  degree  becomes  difference 
in  kind.  It  is  an  affair  of  proportion  of  the  elements  of  life. 
The  simplicity  of  greatness;  more  elemental,  more  free,  holding 
larger  conditions  in  harmony.  Comparison  of  a  great  city ;  how 
different  its  life!     So  of  a  great  man. 

"While  greatness  is  ordinarily  associated  with  prominence,  we 
recognize  its  quality  often  in  obscurity.  There  we  see  a  person 
who  has  these  two  conditions:  (i)  He  is  at  once  exceptional  and 
representative.  He  is  unlike  other  men,  and  at  the  same  time 
makes  a  revelation  of  them.  Thus  he  haunts  and  fascinates. 
The  moral  and  mental  united.  (2)  He  is  not  a  mere  expert, 
but  a  man;  great,  not  in  some  special  skill,  but  as  a  being. 

"But  enough  of  the  effort  to  define  greatness.  We  all  know  it. 
The  real  question  whence  it  comes.  Once  great  men  were  looked 
upon  like  meteors  dropped  out  of  the  sky ;  now  as  if  they  grew 
out  of  the  ground,  expressing  its  fertility.  The  significance  of 
the  change.  The  greatest  men  make  greatness  possible  to  all. 
In  a  mysterious  way  it  is  we  who  did  these  things.  Vicarious- 
ness.  Personality  is  universal.  Shall  there  come  a  time  of  high 
average  with  no  great  men?     Surely  not.     They  shall  always  be. 

' '  Great  men  of  the  future.  The  world  shall  choose  them  better. 
They  shall  better  know  their  places.  Great  men  have  not  found 
their  place,  though  they  are  always  feeling  after  it.  It  is  ser- 
vice. The  conceit  and  jealousy  of  dignity  must  pass  away. 
Who  is  greatest?  He  that  sitteth  at  meat  or  he  that  serveth? 
Christ's  appeal. 

"  Cultivate  reverence  for  Greatness.  Teach  it  to  your  children. 
Cultivate  perception  of  it.  The  double  blessing  of  pattern  and 
power." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

1891. 

lent  at  trinity  church.  noon  lectures  at  st. 
paul's.  election  to  the  episcopate,  the  con- 
troversy FOLLOWING  THE  ELECTION.  EXTRACTS 
FROM  CORRESPONDENCE. 

The  last  of  the  Lenten  ministrations  was  the  most  impressive 
of  all.  The  scene  in  New  York  at  Trinity  Church  was  reproduced 
in  Boston  at  St.  Paul's  and  it  became  the  signal  event  that  Phil- 
lips Brooks  preached  every  Monday  at  12  o'clock.  So  great  was 
the  interest  that  the  addresses  were  reported  at  length  in  the 
secular  newspapers.  The  preacher  was  at  the  height  of  his 
power  as  he  appealed  to  the  crowd  of  eager  listeners,  whose  gaze 
was  fixed  upon  him  as  though  magnetized,  with  an  intensity  of 
expression  at  times  almost  startling. 

On  Good  Friday  he  took  part  in  a  union  service  at  the  Old 
South  Church,  where  the  ministers  of  churches  in  the  vicinity 
of  Copley  Square  were  present.  On  Easter  Day  he  preached  on 
the  text,  "  That  through  death  he  might  destroy  him  that  had 
the  power  of  death."  The  sermon  revealed  the  preacher  in  the 
vast  outreach  of  Christian  faith,  making  it  easier  to  understand 
the  mystery  of  St.  Paul's  theology: 

"He  was  born  that  he  might  die.  The  old  sad  story.  Can 
anything  be  sadder?  So  we  talk  to  each  other  in  our  darkest 
moods.  But  the  glory  of  Jesus  is  that  He  takes  our  old  despairing 
speeches  and  makes  them  glow.  The  dirge  becomes  a  paean. 
"'I  am  born  that  I  may  die,'  becomes  a  cry  of  victory." 

In  the  middle  of  Lent,  on  March  9,  Bishop  Paddock  died  and 
the  nomination  of  Phillips  Brooks  for  the  vacant  episcopate  was 
immediate  and  spontaneous  on  the  part  of  all  the  people.  During 
the   weeks   which   intervened   before   the   diocesan   convention 

584 


THE  EPISCOPATE  585 

should  meet  on  April  29,  there  were  constant  communications  to 
the  newspapers  discussing  the  question  in  its  various  bearings — 
a  thing  unheard-of  before — but  it  did  not  seem  unfitting  in  the 
case  of  Phillips  Brooks.  The  tenor  of  these  communications 
varied,  some  maintaining  that  he  would  not  accept  the  office, 
others,  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  take  him  from  Trinity 
Church,  where  his  influence  was  greater  than  it  would  be  in  the 
episcopate.  Some  thought  he  lacked  the  capacity  for  the  ad- 
ministration of  a  large  diocese.  There  were  others  still,  a  few 
sinister  voices,  suggesting  that  he  was  unfit  for  the  office  because 
he  denied  the  articles  of  the  Christain  faith.  As  in  the  case  of 
his  call  to  Harvard,  the  discussion  went  on  as  if  he  were  to  have 
no  voice  in  the  matter,  but  it  should  be  decided  for  him  by  the 
people.  So  many  letters,  however,  were  published  opposing  his 
election  on  the  assumption  that  he  would  not  accept  the  office, 
that  his  friends  felt  it  necessary  to  get  from  him  an  authoritative 
statement. 

"On  April  2  [writes  one  who  stood  close  to  him],  a  few  weeks 
before  the  meeting  of  the  diocesan  convention,  it  was  my  privi- 
lege to  learn  his  views  in  a  conversation  which  he  himself  opened 
by  saying,  'Why  have  none  of  you  spoken  to  me  about  the  bish- 
opric?" I  replied  that  it  was  because  in  our  ignorance  of  his 
wishes  we  thought  it  wiser  to  allow  the  matter  to  come  before 
him  for  his  decision  when  he  should  be  elected,  as  we  hoped  he 
would  be  by  a  large  majority.  He  answered:  'Why  should  I 
decline?  Who  would  not  accept  such  a  great  opportunity  for 
usefulness,  such  an  enlargement  of  his  ministry?'  At  my  re- 
quest he  then  authorized  all  who  desired  his  election  to  say  that 
he  would  accept  the  office  if  offered  to  him." 

The  diocesan  convention  met  on  the  29th  of  April,  and  on 
the  following  day  Phillips  Brooks  was  elected  bishop  on  the 
first  ballot  by  a  large  majority  of  the  clergy  and  a  still  larger 
majority  of  the  laity.  It  was  a  personal  election,  where  party 
lines  ceased  to  be  closely  drawn.  Some  voted  for  him  who  were 
not  in  sympathy  with  his  ecclesiastical  attitude,  and  others  voted 
against  him  who  did  not  wish  that  he  should  be  taken  from 
Trinity  Church.  The  enthusiasm  over  the  election  was  un- 
bounded. If  the  vote  had  been  taken  again,  it  would  have  been 
well-nigh  unanimous,  for  many  of  those  who  had  voted  adversely 


586  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

were  rejoiced  at  the  result.  It  was  a  strange  scene.  As  soon 
as  the  result  was  known,  there  was  a  rush  from  the  hall  where 
the  convention  was  sitting  to  the  house  on  Clarendon  Street. 
He  stood  in  his  study  to  receive  those  who  came,  the  large  eyes 
filled  with  emotion,  and  not  without  a  plaintive  sadness. 

The  rejoicing  in  the  land  was  so  deep,  so  universal,  that  the 
occasion  seemed  like  some  high  festival  whose  octave  was  pro- 
longed in  order  that  the  full  harvest  of  congratulations  might 
be  gathered  in.  His  friends  wrote  to  him — and  their  name  was 
legion — expressing  their  joy.  All  took  it  for  granted  that  the 
event  meant  the  expansion  of  his  influence.  It  was  assumed 
that  Christian  unity  would  be  assured  by  the  enlargement  of  his 
power.  It  was  "a  perfect  storm  of  congratulations,"  said  one 
who  was  watching  the  scene.  There  had  been  other  events  in  the 
life  cf  Phillips  Brooks  which  had  called  out  the  popular  applause, 
but  this  excelled  them  all.  It  was  a  day  of  personal  rejoicing,  as 
though  each  individual  friend  or  admirer  had  been  honored  in 
the  honor  which  had  come  to  him.  "It  is  one  of  the  most  en- 
couraging events  that  has  happened  in  the  Church  for  years." 
"I  cannot  but  feel,"  wrote  one  of  his  early  parishioners  in  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  "a  sort  of  reflected  honor  on  our  own 
little  Advent,  and  my  heart  is  full  of  eager  joy."  From  Phila- 
delphia came  these  words : 

"The  gratification  felt  here  over  your  election  is  unparalleled. 
I  never  saw  anything  like  it.  And  those  who  knew  you  best 
have  no  words  to  express  their  joy.  All  our  newspapers  have 
had  editorials  on  your  election." 

The  colored  people  spoke  through  one  of  their  representatives : 
"The  negroes  of  the  South  rejoice  with  me  in  wishing  you  joy." 
A  citizen  of  Boston  who  knew  the  city  well  writes,  "  Beautiful 
thoughts  are  thought  of  you  in  Boston,  glorious  things  are  said 
of  you,  and  the  noblest  expectations  cherished." 

Letters  from  the  bishops  who  congratulated  him — and  a  large 
number  of  them  hastened  to  express  their  gratification — 
recognize  the  unique  element  in  the  situation:  "No  bishop  of  the 
American  Church  was  ever  called  to  his  high  office  with  such 
acclaim."  Heads  of  universities  and  colleges  wrote  as  if  included 
in  the  universal  benediction.     Resolutions  were  sent  from  the 


THE  EPISCOPATE  587 

students  of  theological  seminaries  of  every  name,  from  the  insti- 
tutions of  learning  with  which  he  had  been  connected.  To  gen- 
eralize on  this  amazing  display  of  personal  devotion,  it  might  be 
said  that  all  were  inspired  by  a  feeling  that  the  moment  had  come 
when  those  who  recognized  his  work,  whether  they  knew  him  or 
not,  had  the  right  to  speak,  and  express  their  deepest  feeling  to 
Phillips  Brooks. 

There  was  abundant  recognition  from  his  own  household  of 
faith ;  more  than  he  could  have  imagined  possible.  What  came 
to  him  from  representative  men  in  other  communions  was  full  of 
meaning.  A  distinguished  Congregational  clergyman  wrote: 
"  The  event  means  a  great  deal  for  all  our  churches"  ;  and  another 
reminded  him  of  the  many  thousands  whom  he  did  not  know 
who  were  praying  for  him,  and  asking  for  him  "life  and  health 
in  order  to  do  some  great  work."  A  prominent  layman  of  the 
Congregational  Church  wrote : 

"I  want  to  add  my  voice  to  the  general  Laus  Deo,  Deus  vobis- 
cum.  I  am  so  thankful  you  are  elected  bishop,  not  of  Massachu- 
setts, but  of  the  Church  Universal.  All  of  us  who  share  in  your 
scholarly  liberality,  of  all  denominations,  will  call  you  our  bishop. 
May  God  make  you  Bishop  of  all  souls,  and  may  all  humble  and 
good  men  love  and  honor  you  more  and  more!" 

A  prominent  Methodist  clergyman  writes  to  him,  "I  am  now 
ready  to  intone  'Te  Deum  Laudamus.'"  An  eminent  lawyer, 
Unitarian  in  his  religious  faith,  writes:  "It  is,  indeed,  a  fine  thing 
when  a  great  body  of  Christians  puts  at  its  head  one  whom  all 
Christians  will  gladly  follow."  A  Universalist  divine  and  leading 
educator : 

"  I  do  not  so  much  rejoice  in  the  immense  forward  movement 
that  Episcopalianism  has  made  in  your  election,  though  I  trust  I 
am  broad  enough  not  to  be  indifferent  to  that,  as  I  do  in  the  gain 
that  has  come,  and  that  is  sure  to  come  more  and  more,  to  our 
common  Christianity.  In  this  feeling  I  know  that  I  voice  the 
general  sentiment  of  clergy  and  laity  alike  of  the  entire  Univer- 
salist Church." 

The  yearning  in  the  soul  of  the  common  humanity  for  leader- 
ship had  fastened  upon  Phillips  Brooks  as  adequate  to  its  de- 
mand.    The  well-nigh  universal  tribute  from  the  newspapers 


588  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

throughout  the  country,  was  one  of  rejoicing  because  in  some 
way  he  will  now  be  a  universal  "bishop."  The  late  James  Rus- 
sell Lowell  gave  utterance  to  the  same  feeling : 

"Elmwood,  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  May  i,  1891. 

"Dear  Doctor  Brooks, — Though  I  do  not  belong  to  the  flock 
which  will  be  guided  by  your  crook,  I  cannot  help  writing  a  line 
to  say  how  proud  I  am  of  our  bishop. 

"Faithfully  yours, 

"J.  R.  Lowell." 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  when  the  honors  of  canonization  were  in 
process,  it  was  customary  to  hear  the  other  side,  in  order  that  all 
which  might  be  said  against  a  man  should  be  considered.  That 
moment  had  now  come,  and  come  for  the  first  time,  in  a  public 
way,  in  the  life  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  process  of  making  a  bishop  in  the  American  Episcopal 
Church  is  longer  and  more  complicated  than  in  the  Church  of 
England.  After  the  election  has  taken  place  the  secretary  of 
the  diocese  sends  word  of  the  election  to  the  standing  committee 
in  each  diocese  in  the  United  States,  and  also  to  the  presiding 
bishop.  As  soon  as  the  presiding  bishop  has  received  a  reply 
from  the  majority  of  the  standing  committees  in  the  affirmative 
he  communicates  the  fact  to  the  bishops  and  calls  for  their  vote. 
After  a  majority  of  favorable  replies  from  the  bishops,  the  bishop- 
elect  has  been  confirmed  and  the  order  is  given  for  his  consecra- 
tion. The  process  is  generally  a  formal  one,  requiring  four  or 
five  weeks  before  the  announcement  of  the  result.  In  the  case 
of  Phillips  Brooks  ten  weeks  elapsed  before  the  confirmation  of 
his  election  was  made  known.  The  controversy  which  took  place 
over  his  election  was  not  important,  nor  were  the  sources  influ- 
ential or  representative  from  which  it  proceeded;  their  import- 
ance was  rather  a  reflected  one,  gaining  significance  from  the 
unique  greatness  of  the  man.  So  sensitive  was  the  public  mind 
in  everything  relating  to  him  that  the  slightest  hint  of  opposition 
was  magnified  till  it  assumed  unnatural  proportions. 

As  to  the  final  result,  those  who  knew  best  the  Episcopal 
Church  had  no  misgivings.  Their  faith  in  its  reserved  wisdom, 
its  comprehensiveness,  and  its  freedom  from  doctrinaire  ten- 
dencies gave  them  absolute  confidence.     Such  also  was  the  con- 


THE  CONTROVERSY  589 

viction  of  Dr.  Brooks, — there  was  no  doubt  whatever  of  the 
confirmation  of  his  election.  To  the  efforts  made  to  defeat  it 
we  now  turn. 

Hardly,  then,  had  the  election  been  made  when  a  statement 
appeared  in  the  newspapers,  gaining  wide  circulation,  that 
there  was  likely  to  be  opposition  among  the  bishops.  Dr. 
Brooks,  it  was  said,  had  expressed  his  disbelief  in  the  historic 
episcopate,  and  as  the  bishops  held  strong  convictions  on  that 
point  they  could  not  admit  to  their  number  one  who  differed 
from  them.  This  statement  in  the  newspapers  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  a  leaflet  with  the  headline,  "Ought  Mr.  Brooks  to 
be  Confirmed?"  which  was  sent  to  bishops  and  standing  com- 
mittees, containing  quotations  from  his  sermons  to  the  effect 
that  he  denied  the  apostolical  succession.  Another  leaflet  was 
widely  distributed,  giving  the  opinion  of  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  who  had  formerly  been  a  Baptist  minister.  When  asked 
his  opinion  in  regard  to  the  propriety  of  Dr.  Brooks  becoming  a 
bishop,  he  had  shaken  his  head  and  seemed  quite  disheartened 
about  the  Episcopal  Church.  His  words  were  quoted  in  the 
leaflet  as  follows: 

"I  regret  to  say  they  [the  present  movements  in  the  Episcopal 
Church]  indicate  that  the  Episcopal  Church  is  yielding  to  the 
rationalistic  and  agnostic  tendencies  of  the  age  to  a  deplorable 
extent.  ...  If  its  creeds  and  articles  of  faith  no  longer  bind 
its  clergy  and  people,  the  surging  tide  of  infidelity  will  soon  de- 
stroy its  distinctive  character  as  an  organized  and  conservative 
form  of  Christianity." 

A  circular  was  sent  to  bishops  and  standing  committees, 
addressed  "To  Whom  it  May  Concern,"  containing  an  extract 
from  an  anonymous  letter  whose  writer  asserted  that  Dr.  Brooks 
was  a  most  unfit  man  to  be  a  bishop,  as  he  deemed  the  miracle 
to  be  unimportant  and  in  the  life  of  Christ  unessential.  "  He  will 
let  everybody  stand  on  their  head  if  they  want  to,  and  avow  that 
no  doctrine  is  essential,  not  even  the  essential  one  of  the  Trinity 
and  the  divine  Incarnation."  One  of  the  bishops  sent  to  Dr. 
Brooks  an  "open  letter"  saying  that  his  participation  "in  the 
so-called  ordination  services  of  Mr.  Beecher's  successor  in  Brook- 
lyn required  in  the  judgment  of  many  honest  minds  an  explan- 
ation or  expression  of  regret,    .    .    .   assurances  that  what  has 


590  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

pained  so  many  of  his  brethren  will  not  occur  again."  Another 
bishop  wrote  to  him  inquiring  whether  he  were  still  true  to  his 
ordination  vows,  and  whether  he  had  ever  united  with  a  Uni- 
tarian minister  in  a  public  religious  service;  but  he  added,  "On 
the  absurd  subject  of  apostolic  succession  I  entirely  agree  with 
you." 

On  the  other  hand,  a  layman  wrote : 

"  My  questions  are  these :  Do  you  consider  that  Apostolic  Suc- 
cession is  indispensably  necessary  to  the  existence  of  Christ's 
Church? 

"In  your  opinion,  have  the  faithful  followers  of  a  Protestant 
creed  which  ignores  the  Succession  an  equal  warrant  with  faithful 
Episcopalians  in  expecting,  in  the  future  life,  the  reward  promised 
to  the  righteous? " 

Among  other  questions  he  was  called  upon  to  answer  were  : 

"Do  you  believe  that  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  alone 
represents  in  its  integrity  and  purity,  in  the  United  States  of 
America,  Christ's  Holy  Catholic  Church? 

"Do  you  believe  that  episcopally  ordained  clergy  alone  have 
the  right  to  exercise  Christ's  ministry, — to  Baptize,  to  admin- 
ister the  Holy  Communion,  to  pronounce  God's  declaration  of 
absolution  over  repentant  sinners,  and  to  preach  the  Gospel? 

"Do  you  believe  that  the  Protestant  sects  in  the  United 
States  constitute  the  American  Church,  and  that  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  is  no  more  of  a  Church  than  any  of  these  sects 
and  has  no  more  right  to  that  title  than  any  of  them? " 

Some  were  content  with  asking  questions.  Others  were 
bolder  and  brought  against  him  railing  accusations.  He  was  a 
Congregationalist,  since  he  did  not  believe  in  apostolic  succession. 
In  theology  he  was  an  Arian,  which  meant  that  he  denied  not 
only  the  divinity  but  the  humanity  of  Christ.  He  was  a  Pelagian, 
and  held  that  man  was  sufficient  for  himself  and  that  God  had 
no  connection  with  human  salvation.  The  rumor  went  abroad 
that  the  Nicene  creed  was  not  recited  at  Trinity  Church.  To 
none  of  these  questions  or  accusations  did  Dr.  Brooks  vouchsafe 
any  reply.  But  there  grew  up  a  feeling  of  indignation  in  the 
Episcopal  Church  that  it  should  be  so  misrepresented,  or  that 
any  man  in  its  fold  should  be  subjected  to  such  treatment. 
This  feeling  found  expression  in  the  following  courageous  and 


THE  CONTROVERSY  591 

manly  letter  from  Rev.  John  Henry  Hopkins  which  appeared  in 
the  New  York  Tribune  on  June  i : 

"Our  Church  is  a  comprehensive  Church;  and  that  means  that 
there  is  room  in  her  communion  for  a  great  variety  of  opinions 
on  religious  matters.  We  have  three  well-known  parties,  High, 
Low,  and  Broad.  I  am  a  High  Churchman, — about  as  high  as 
they  make  them.  Had  I  been  a  member  of  the  Massacnusetts 
convention,  I  should  never,  under  any  circumstances,  have  voted 
for  Dr.  Brooks.  But  when  he  had  been  elected  I  should  have 
signed  his  testimonials  with  pleasure,  rejoicing  in  the  elevation 
of  one  who  is  recognized  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  as 
a  preacher  now  without  a  living  superior,  and  whose  high-toned, 
stainless  life  is  acknowledged  by  all.  As  long  as  any  one  of  our 
dioceses  wants  a  Broad  Church  bishop  or  a  Low  Church  bishop,  it 
has  a  right  to  him;  and  the  requiring  of  the  consents  of  the 
standing  committees  and  a  majority  of  the  bishops  was  never 
meant  to  give  power  to  a  majority  to  squeeze  out  a  minority  by 
refusing  to  let  them  have  the  kind  of  bishop  they  wanted.  .  .  . 
To  try  now  to  return  to  a  narrower  basis  in  order  to  worry  the 
most  distinguished  bishop-elect  whom  the  American  Church  has 
ever  known  is  all  nonsense. 

"When  asked  for  'explanations,'  etc.,  I  am  delighted  that  Dr. 
Brooks  had  none  to  give.  No  bishop-elect  ought  ever  to  give 
any.  If  he  can  honestly  make  the  answers  put  in  his  mouth  at 
the  time  of  his  consecration,  it  is  enough.  The  Church  gives  to 
no  man  the  right  to  put  to  him  any  question  beyond  that.  Es- 
pecially is  it  uncalled-for  in  a  case  like  that  of  Dr.  Brooks,  vol- 
umes of  whose  sermons  are  in  print.  Anonymous  letters  should 
be  treated,  in  such  a  matter  as  this,  with  perfect  contempt, — 
and  all  are  anonymous  whose  writers  are  not  named  and  known. 
.  .  .  Especially  is  this  the  case  when  these  anonymous  writers 
display  such  abysmal  ignorance  of  the  very  points  in  theology 
which  they  try  to  handle." 

The  election  had  taken  place  April  30,  and  by  June  4  it  was 
known  that  a  majority  of  votes  of  the  standing  committees  had 
been  cast  in  favor  of  the  bishop-elect.  The  question  then  went 
before  the  bishops.  The  presiding  bishop,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Dr. 
Williams  of  Connecticut,  had  hoped  that  by  the  middle  of  June 
he  should  be  able  to  report  that  the  election  had  been  approved. 
But  the  weeks  went  by,  and  the  votes  of  the  bishops  had  not  been 
received.  It  began  to  be  feared  that  the  accusations  and  anony- 
mous letters  had  influenced  their  opinion.     One  of  the  bishops 


592  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

had  sent  a  circular  letter  to  his  Episcopal  brethren  warning  them 
of  the  awful  danger  to  the  faith  involved  in  the  issue,  of  the 
"horrible  consequences  "  which  no  one  could  forecast,  if  the 
election  were  confirmed.  Dr.  Brooks  himself  never  had  any 
doubts  as  to  the  final  result,  but  he  was  annoyed  by  the  unusual 
delay,  and  depressed  by  the  anxiety  of  his  friends  and  by  the 
publicity  given  to  the  subject  in  the  papers.  He  was  urged  by 
bishops  and  other  friends  to  break  his  silence  and  assure  the 
Church  that  he  believed  the  articles  of  the  Christian  faith;  but 
he  refused  to  give  any  answers,  or  to  define  his  position,  or  to 
make  apologies  or  pledges. 

"I  have  been  for  thirty-two  years  a  minister  of  the  Church  [so 
he  wrote,  June  3,  1891],  and  I  have  used  her  services  joyfully 
and  without  complaint.  I  have  preached  in  many  places,  and 
with  the  utmost  freedom.  I  have  written  and  published  many 
volumes,  which  I  have  no  right  to  ask  anybody  to  read,  but  which 
will  give  to  any  one  who  chooses  to  read  them  clear  understanding 
of  my  way  of  thinking.  My  acts  have  never  been  concealed. 
Under  these  circumstances,  I  cannot  think  it  well  to  make  any 
utterance  of  faith  or  pledge  of  purpose  at  the  present  time. 
Certainly  I  made  none  to  my  brethren  here,  when  they  chose  me 
to  be  their  bishop,  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  will  think 
I  am  right  in  making  none  now,  when  the  election  is  passing  to 
its  final  stages." 

Had  Mr.  Brooks,  however,  met  the  wishes  of  those  who  advised 
him  to  make  some  utterance  of  a  reassuring  character,  it  would 
not  have  met  the  real  difficulty.  Had  he  affirmed  his  belief  in 
doctrines  he  was  falsely  charged  with  denying,  there  would  have 
been  another  question  ready  for  him:  How  is  it  that  believing 
these  things,  as  you  say  you  do,  you  could  have  taken  part  in 
the  ordination  of  a  Congregational  minister  ?  or  how  could  you 
have  allowed  Unitarians  to  come  to  the  Lord's  Supper?  or  how 
could  you  have  taken  part  in  any  religious  service  where  they 
were  present,  or  have  spoken  as  you  did,  in  the  pulpit  of  Trinity 
Church,  about  an  eminent  Unitarian  minister?  Do  you  not  see 
that  your  acts  contradict  your  words,  taking  all  meaning  out  of 
your  language,  so  that  you  stand  convicted  by  deeds  which  speak 
louder  than  words?  He  had  maintained,  in  his  book  on  Tol- 
erance, that  fellowship  with  those  of  different  religious  attitudes 
did  not  imply  indifference  to  religious  doctrines,  but  that  true 


THE  CONTROVERSY  593 

toleration  should  coexist  with  a  deeper  conviction  of  their  truth 
and  value.  This  was  what  his  opponents  refused  to  admit  or 
understand.  What  they  were  in  reality  demanding  was  the 
retraction  of  his  whole  attitude — confession  of  wrong,  contrition 
and  promises  of  amendment.  On  that  condition  only  could  he 
be  absolved  from  suspicion  and  accusation  of  false  doctrine. 

There  may  have  been  some  danger  of  his  being  engulfed  in 
the  tragedy  which  has  sometimes  awaited  those  who  depart  from 
prevailing  fashions  in  theological  opinion.  Samaritans  and 
publicans  were  to  orthodox  Judaism  in  the  time  of  Christ  what 
the  Protestant  Churches  are  to  modern  "Catholic"  ecclesias- 
ticism.  When  Christ  associated  with  Samaritans,  He  was  re- 
minded that  the  orthodox  respectable  Jews  had  no  dealings 
with  them.  When  He  sat  down  to  eat  with  publicans  and  sinners 
the  principle  was  applied  to  Him  that  "a  man  is  known  by  the 
company  he  keeps."  Phillips  Brooks  was  one  of  those  who 
looked  forward  to  some  larger  fulfilment  of  the  words  of  Christ 
to  the  woman  of  Samaria:  "The  hour  cometh  when  ye  shall 
neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem,  worship  the 
Father,  when  the  true  worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth." 

The  votes  were  so  slow  in  coming  in  that  by  the  ist  of  July 
a  sufficient  number  had  not  been  recorded.  Those  who  knew 
the  Episcopal  Church  had  no  serious  misgivings.  But  the 
popular  anxiety  increased  while  it  forecast  what  his  defeat 
would  mean,  not  only  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  but  to  all  the 
churches.  Again  he  was  urged  to  say  a  few  simple  words  which 
would  quiet  the  agitation. 

"I  had  often  begged  him  [says  Bishop  Clark,  in  a  memorial 
sermon]  to  say  a  word  or  two,  or  to  allow  me  to  do  it  for  him, 
which  I  knew  would  greatly  relieve  the  minds  of  some  honest 
people,  who  did  not  understand  his  position,  and  his  uniform 
reply  in  substance  was:  'I  will  never  say  a  word,  or  allow  you  to 
say  a  word,  in  vindication  or  explanation  of  my  position.  I  stand 
upon  my  record,  and  by  that  record  I  will  stand  or  fall.  I  have 
said  what  I  think  and  believe  in  my  public  utterances  and  in  my 
printed  discourses,  and  have  nothing  to  retract  or  qualify.' 
And  so  through  the  whole  of  the  trying  campaign  of  his  election 
to  the  episcopate  his  mouth  was  closed." 

From  July   i    to  July   10   the  uncertainty  continued.     On 


594  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  last-named  day,  the  presiding  bishop  telegraphed  to  Dr. 
Brooks  that  the  election  had  been  confirmed  by  a  majority 
of  the  bishops.  Then  the  congratulations  poured  in  once  more, 
and  there  went  up  a  shout  of  jubilation  all  over  the  country. 
The  confirmation  of  the  election  had  been  delayed  too  long. 
But  upon  this  aspect  of  the  subject  we  need  not  dwell.  The 
common  feeling  was  expressed  by  one  who  understood  the 
situation : 

"The  persistent  maintenance  of  your  spiritual  equanimity  and 
Christian  temper  has  won  for  you  the  hearts  of  thousands  of 
God's  people  everywhere,  during  your  recent  persecution." 

The  scene  in  the  little  church  at  Northeast  Harbor,  Maine,  on 
July  12,  is  thus  described  in  a  letter  to  the  bishop-elect  by  a 
clergyman  present: 

"My  dear  Brooks, — I  had  a  great  comfort  and  happiness  to- 
day. In  church,  Bishop  Doane,  with  a  few  graceful  words,  an- 
nounced that  the  news  of  your  confirmation  had  just  reached 
him,  and  he  asked  us  to  join  in  that  prayer  in  the  service  for  the 
Consecration  of  Bishops,  '  Most  merciful  Father,  we  beseech  Thee 
to  send  down  upon  Thy  servant  Phillips  Brooks  Thy  heavenly 
blessing,'  etc.  I  never  joined  in  a  prayer  with  more  fervor,  nor 
thanked  God  more  devoutly  that  a  great  suspense  was  over.  .  .  . 
I  was  glad  enough  that  our  Church  is  broad  enough  to  hold  you 

and .     I  agree  with  neither,  but  what  difference  does  that 

make?     Accept  my  hearty  congratulations." 

The  Rev.  John  Henry  Hopkins  had  taken  what  part  he  could 
in  securing  the  confirmation  of  Dr.  Brooks's  election,  and  after 
the  result  was  reached  wrote  this  letter  to  Phillips  Brooks : 

"  July  ii,  1891. 

"Rev.  and  dear  Brother, — At  last  the  morning  papers  an- 
nounce that  the  majority  of  the  Bishops  consent  to  your  conse- 
cration, though  they  have  been  so  slow  about  it  that  I  began  to 
feel  a  little  uneasy.  Not  about  you!  Your  position  is  one  which 
Bishops  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  Nor  do  I  congratulate 
you,  for  the  burden  of  the  Episcopate  is  too  heavy  to  be  a  fit  sub- 
ject for  congratulation.  Biit  I  rejoice  that  the  American  Church 
has  not  been  switched  from  its  propriety  by  such  a  disgusting 

mess  of  twaddle  as  the business  even  when  backed  up  by  so 

light  a  weight  as  the  name  of  Dr. .     I  loathe  this  whole  '  pri- 


THE  CONTROVERSY  595 

vate  and  confidential'  business  of  stabbing  a  man  in  the  dark, 
and  only  wonder  that  the  miserable  underground  burrowing  has 
affected  as  many  good  men  as  it  has.  Part  of  the  opposition, 
however,  is  due  (as  with  — — )  to  a  conviction  that  you  are  an 
Arian  of  some  shade!  Of  course,  if  you  were  that,  I  should  do  as 
he  has  done;  but  I  have  never  seen  any  proof  of  it,  and  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it.  I  only  wish  I  were  well  enough  to  attend  your 
consecration;  but  I  have  an  incurable  disease,  which  renders  it 
impossible,  and  have  only  a  few  weeks,  perhaps  months,  to  live. 
I  shall  be  with  you  in  spirit  on  that  day.  You  and  I  do  not  agree 
about  some  things ;  but  we  can  differ  like  honest  men  who  respect 
one  another;  and  I  respect  and  honor  you  as  the  foremost 
preacher  of  our  Anglican  Communion,  and  shall  rejoice  to  see 
you  a  member  of  our  house  of  Bishops.  I  regard  your  elevation 
as  the  most  important  step  yet  taken  in  bringing  New  England 
into  the  Church. 

"Your  obedient  servant  in  the  Church, 

"J.  H.  Hopkins." 

One  other  circumstance  remains  to  be  mentioned  illustrating 
the  attitude  of  Phillips  Brooks.  Among  those  who  voted  for  his 
confirmation  there  were  some  who  were  troubled  with  doubts  as 
to  the  validity  of  his  baptism.  Now  that  he  was  free  to  speak 
without  compromising  his  dignity,  he  was  asked  for  the  sake  of 
peace  and  of  quieting  scruples  to  submit  to  what  is  known  as 
"hypothetical  baptism";  since  his  baptism  by  a  Unitarian  min- 
ister had  raised  the  doubt  whether  "water  were  used,  and  in  the 
Triune  name."  Others,  he  was  told,  who  had  been  placed  in 
similar  circumstances  had  done  so.  With  this  request  he  refused 
to  comply,  assuring  those  who  made  it  that  the  baptism  had  been 
by  water,  and  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Of  this  he  was  as  sure  as  that  the  name  given 
him  in  baptism  had  been  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  who  was  in  Europe,  he  wrote  at 
great  length: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  14,  1891. 

"Yes,  my  dear  friend,  it  has  come,  and  I  suppose  it  will  move 
on  to  its  completion,  although  there  seems  to  be  a  little  insignifi- 
cant opposition  to  it.  But  that  will  not  come  to  anything,  and  I 
shall  be  a  bishop.  Oh,  how  often  have  I  wished  that  you  were 
here,  that  we  might  talk  it  all  over  together,  and  I  might  have 
your  counsel,  as  I  have  had  it  so  abundantly  all  these  happy  years. 
But,  indeed,  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  accept  the  election 


596  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

when  it  came,  and  there  was  never  any  moment  when  one  had  the 
right  or  the  chance  to  say,  '  I  cannot.'  The  thing  became  clothed 
with  so  much  significance  that  one  owed  it  to  Truth  and  to  the 
Church  to  stand,  and  so,  the  first  thing  I  knew,  I  was  bishop  so  far 
as  the  diocesan  convention  could  make  me  one. 

"Indeed  I  do  not  know  wholly  what  to  think  about  it,  though 
the  spirit  and  way  in  which  the  whole  thing  has  been  done  seems 
to  promise  a  beautiful  and  splendid  chance  for  good.  But  at 
present  I  think  that  all  my  mind  is  running  backward.  What  a 
twenty-two  years  this  has  been!  How  little  I  dreamed,  when  I 
came  here  in  '69,  of  all  the  happiness  that  was  before  me!  How 
good  and  generous  everybody  has  been!  And  now,  this  great, 
splendid  Church  and  Parish  as  the  monument  and  token  of  it  all ! 
I  sit  and  think  it  all  over,  and  am  very  grateful, — I  hope  as  grate- 
ful as  I  ought  to  be, — certainly  as  humble  as  ever  any  mortal 
was. 

"And  you  know  something,  you  cannot  know  all,  of  how  this 
great  happiness  and  delight  in  all  these  years  has  had  the  most 
sacred  and  close  connection  with  you  and  yours.  What  you  and 
your  wife  and  your  children  have  been  to  me  it  would  be  pre- 
posterous for  me  to  try  to  tell.  But  the  great  years  never  could 
have  been  without  you.  How  it  all  comes  pouring  on  my  recollec- 
tion !  What  a  million  of  little  and  big  events.  And  how  thankful 
I  am  you  will  never  know.     God  bless  you  for  it  all ! 

"And  now  about  the  future.  There  surely  is  one.  We  are 
young  fellows  yet,  and,  much  as  there  is  behind  us,  there  is  more 
before,  more  in  quality  at  least  if  not  in  quantity.  The  diocese 
is  just  a  larger  parish,  with  some  things  added  which  are  full  of 
interest.  I  feel  as  if  the  Episcopal  Church  and  the  State  of  Mas- 
sachusetts needed  to  understand  one  another,  and  to  be  more  to 
each  other  than  they  have  been  heretofore.  If  I  can  make  them 
know  one  another  at  all,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  Then  I  look  for- 
ward to  much  intercourse  with  young  ministers,  and  to  the  effort 
to  give  them  inspiration  and  hope  and  breadth  of  view.  I  ex- 
pect to  preach  here  and  there  and  everywhere  up  and  down 
the  State,  and  the  people  will  get  tired  of  hearing  me  before  I 
shall  get  tired  of  addressing  them.  The  colleges  and  schools  of 
Massachusetts  are  immensely  interesting  to  me,  and  I  shall  know 
them  all.  And  all  the  good  work  of  every  kind  which  one  can 
touch  with  something  of  religious  fire  will  have  one's  eager  sym- 
pathy and  service. 

"Besides  all  this,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  think  that  personal 
pastorship  would  have  to  be  entirely  abandoned.*,  Many  people 
come  to  me  now  for  the  poor  spiritual  help  which  I  can  gi\re  who 
are  in  no  way  connected  with  Trinity  Church.  I  know  how  vast 
a  part  of  the  population  of  our  State  is  not  connected  with  any 
church  at  all.     I  hope  that  there  may  be  a  good  many  of  these 


THE  CONTROVERSY  597 

who  in  one  way  or  another  will  find  me  out  and  give  me  the 
privilege  of  hearing  them  and  helping  them. 

"When  I  run  over  the  opportunities  of  the  episcopate  thus,  I 
feel  sure  that  it  is  no  wooden  and  mechanical  office  to  which  I 
have  been  summoned.  It  is  all  splendidly  alive  if  one  can  make 
it  so.  And  there  is  no  place  so  good  to  be  bishop  in  as  Massa- 
chusetts. Our  Church  here  is  sensible  and  broad.  The  people 
about  her  are  willing  and  glad  to  see  her  take  her  part  in  every 
good  work,  and  (what  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me)  those  who 
have  chosen  me  know  the  worst  of  the  man  whom  they  have 
chosen.  They  have  summered  and  wintered  me  for  twenty-two 
years,  and  know  pretty  much  what  they  will  have  to  expect  of 
their  new  bishop. 

"  But  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  am  sure  it  means  the  entire  resig- 
nation of  the  rectorship  of  Trinity  Church,  and  the  election  of  a 
new  man  who  shall  be  absolutely  master  of  that  place.  Nothing 
else  than  that  would  be  just  to  the  diocese,  or  the  parish,  or  the 
new  minister,  or  me.  I  shall  have  chance  enough  to  preach  in 
Boston  when  I  have  the  time  to  do  so.  And  at  first  the  larger 
part  of  my  time  will  be  spent  away  from  the  city.  The  best 
man  must  be  found ;  would  that  we  knew  him !  But  he  will  be 
found,  and  we  will  give  him  ungrudging  welcome  to  the  pulpit, 
and  he  shall  have  for  his  own  the  best  parish  in  the  world.  And 
he  and  his  family  will  live  here  in  this  house.  I  am  trying  to 
fancy  them  in  these  rooms,  and  do  not  wish  them  anything  but 
good.  And  I  shall  come  up  into  Chestnut  Street, — 26  is  the 
number, — and  be  as  snug  and  comfortable  as  possible  there.  I 
have  read  carefully  all  the  good  and  thoughtful  plans  in  your  de- 
lightful letter,  but,  believe  me,  it  is  not  good  to  think  of  any- 
thing except  the  entire  separation  of  the  church  and  the  episco- 
pate. You  will  give  strength,  I  know,  to  both  the  parish  and 
the  diocese,  and  I  shall  be  close  to  all  my  old  friends  still.  All 
this  about  myself !  You  will  forgive  it,  I  am  sure.  You  do  not 
know  how  I  wish  you  were  here !  But  the  Consecration  shall  be 
put  off,  if  possible,  till  you  get  back." 

As  the  excitement  over  the  election  was  increasing  he  wrote 
this  letter  to  Rev.  John  C.  Brooks: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  27,  1891. 

"I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your  good  letter.  It  is  indeed 
a  ridiculous  pother  that  is  going  on,  but  it  has  this  advantage, 
that  it  is  bringing  the  whole  matter  out  into  broad  daylight, 
and  the  decision  when  it  comes  will  have  its  full  value,  and  when 
a  distinct  Broad  Churchman,  thoroughly  recognized  and  pro- 
claimed as  such,  is  made  a  bishop. 


598  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"The  opposition  has  been  thoroughly  upon  the  grounds  of  ad- 
mitted facts.  Nobody  has  charged  me  with  theft  or  murder.  I 
do  not  believe  the  doctrine  of  apostolical  succession,  and  I  am 
sure  that  Lyman  Abbott  has  the  right  to  preach  the  gospel.  I 
shall  be  confirmed  with  the  clear  knowledge  of  those  positions  in 
everybody's  mind,  and  so  it  will  be  fully  made  known  that  they 
are  no  objections  to  a  man's  episcopate. 

"And  I  shall  be  confirmed.  There  is  no  doubt  of  the  result, 
and  then  I  think  the  good  bishops  will  find  what  a  delightful 
member  of  the  Upper  House  I  am. 

"What  an  excitement  there  is  all  through  the  theological  world. 
It  is  all  good,  and  in  the  end  we  are  to  have  a  larger  Christian 
life.  Certainly  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  things  going  back 
to  what  they  were  twenty  years  ago." 

In  his  correspondence,  there  are  other  allusions  to  the  ordeal 
through  which  he  was  passing: 

"These  people  who  cannot  sign  the  papers  of  the  new  man  who 
will  overlook  everything  and  oversee  nothing  have  a  lot  of  sym- 
pathy from  me.  I  can  understand  all  their  misgivings,  and  could 
give  them  a  host  more  which  they  never  guessed." 

"There  is  no  doubt,  I  take  it,  about  my  being  bishop,  but  the 
matter  moves  on  very  slowly.  I  think  the  opposition  have  done 
everything  in  their  power  to  clothe  the  election  with  significance, 
and  when  the  final  collapse  of  things  does  not  happen  upon  Con- 
secration Day,  I  do  not  see  how  they  will  explain  the  failure." 

In  acknowledging  a  wood-cut  portrait  of  himself,  which  dis- 
torted his  features,  he  sent  these  lines: 

"  No  wonder,  if  'tis  thus  he  looks, 
The  Church  has  doubts  of  Phillips  Brooks. 
Well,  if  he  knows  himself,  he  '11  try- 
To  give  these  dreadful  looks  the  lie. 
He  dares  not  promise,  but  will  seek 
E'en  as  a  bishop  to  be  meek, 
To  walk  the  way  he  shall  be  shown, 
To  trust  a  strength  that  's  not  his  own, 
To  fill  the  years  with  honest  work, 
To  serve  his  day  and  not  to  shirk, 
And  quite  forget  what  folks  have  said, 
To  keep  his  heart  and  keep  his  head, 
Until  men,  laying  him  to  rest, 
Shall  say  at  least  he  did  his  best." 

A  few  extracts  follow  from  his  private  correspondence  which 
disclose  his  feelings  in  view  of  the  change  in  his  life : 

"I  am  glad  of  this  quiet  summer,  and  especially  of  the  quiet 


CORRESPONDENCE  599 

days  at  North  Andover,  before  the  change  comes.  I  have  been 
thinking  a  great  deal  about  it  all  and  hoping  and  praying  that  I 
may  be  able  to  do  my  duty.  The  work  looks  very  interesting, 
and  I  think  the  simplest  view  of  it  makes  it  most  serious  and 
sacred.  I  do  not  know  why  one  should  not  carry  into  it  the  same 
simple  faith  by  which  he  has  always  tried  to  live,  that  He  whose 
the  work  is  will  give  the  strength;  and  so  I  do  not  dare  to  fear. 
Now  that  the  matter  is  decided,  and  I  am  to  be  a  bishop,  I  can 
only  hope  that  I  may  so  exercise  my  office  that  you  and  others, 
who  do  not  think  much  of  it,  may  see  in  it  something  more  than 
they  have  suspected  to  be  there." 

He  writes  to  Rev.  C.  D.  Cooper,  telling  of  the  arrangements 
made  for  the  Consecration,  and  urging  his  presence: 

"Minnequa,  Pennsylvania,  July  20,  1891. 

"Dear  old  Cooper, — The  bishops  have  more  or  less  reluc- 
tantly consented,  and  I  am  to  be  consecrated  in  Trinity,  Boston, 
on  the  14th  of  October.  And  you  will  come,  won't  you?  I 
know  you  do  not  like  such  things,  but  this  is  mine.  And  we 
have  loved  each  other  all  these  years,  and  it  will  make  the  epis- 
copate sweeter  and  easier  always  to  remember  that  your  kindly 
face  looked  on  at  the  ceremony,  and  that  your  beloved  voice 
joined  in  the  prayers!  I  want  you  more  than  all  the  rest!  I 
shall  keep  you  a  room  under  my  own  roof,  and  it  is  not  likely  I 
shall  get  you  there  again,  for  I  must  move  into  the  old  house 
where  bishops  live,  on  Chestnut  Street,  some  time  this  autumn. 

"So  write  me  word  that  you  will  come.  Let  this  be  our  token 
that  no  episcopate  can  break  the  friendship  of  so  many  years, 
and  show  the  world  that  we  belong  together  even  if  they  have 
made  their  efforts  to  tear  us  from  one  another.  I  claim  your 
presence  as  my  right. 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  feel  right  about  it  all;  only  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  a  new  and  broader  opportunity  to  serve  the  Master 
whom  we  have  been  loving  and  serving  all  this  long  ministry, 
and  with  the  opportunity  I  believe  that  He  will  give  me  strength; 
that  's  all,  and  I  am  very  happy.  .  .  .  God  bless  you,  dear  Coo- 
per, and  make  us  faithful,  and  give  us  the  great  joy  at  last. 
"Your  affectionate  old  friend, 

"P.  B." 

And  again,  in  urging  his  presence,  he  writes: 

"The  robes  have  just  come  in  and  stand  beside  me  on  the  floor 
as  I  write.  Poor  things!  they  little  know  how  they  have  got  to 
travel  up  and  down  the  land,  and  in  what  hundreds  of  pulpits 
they  have  got  to  stand.     It  is  a  pity  that  one  has  to  wear  them, 


6oo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

and  that  the  whole  subject  of  the  episcopate  should  be  so  involved 
with  clothes,  but  one  must  make  the  best  of  that,  and  indeed, 
Cooper,  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  it  seems  to  me  as  if  there 
were  really  no  necessity  in  the  nature  of  things  that  a  bishop 
should  be  a  fool." 

To  the  Rev.  Leighton  Parks  he  writes : 

"North  Andover,  Sunday  afternoon,  August  16,  1891. 

"Let  me  write  you  once  more  before  the  summer  is  over,  and 
you  and  the  children  set  sail  for  home,  and  the  new  life  which  I 
cannot  help  dreading  begins.  You  will  do  all  you  can  to  make 
it  like  the  old  life,  won't  you?  You  will  not,  either  in  jest  or  in 
earnest,  behave  as  if  there  had  come  a  break  and  a  separation  be- 
tween us,  because  of  what  is  to  take  place  on  the  14th  of  October! 
1  hate  to  think  of  the  pageant  of  that  day .  And  what  is  to  come 
after  it  I  do  not  know.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  any  good  which 
my  bishopric  can  do  the  Church  were  comprised  in  the  mere  fact 
of  my  election  and  confirmation,  and  now  I  had  better  resign  or 
die.  Certainly  my  kind  opponents  have  done  their  best  to  make 
the  selection  of  me  significant.  But  I  will  try  what  I  can  do  to 
show  not  that  there  was  not  what  they  called  a  great  danger,  but 
that  what  they  chose  to  call  a  danger  was  really  a  chance  and  op- 
portunity of  good.  You  don't  know  how  hard  work  attracts  me 
in  my  better  moments  or  how  earnestly  I  pray  for  strength  to  do 
a  hundredth  part  of  what  my  imagination  pictures.  Only  don't 
desert  me." 

October  14  had  been  appointed  for  the  consecration.  Dur- 
ing the  weeks  that  intervened  he  was  occupied  with  the  prepa- 
ration that  the  event  demanded.  He  resigned  the  rectorship  of 
Trinity  Church.  He  withdrew  from  the  board  of  preachers  at 
Harvard  University.  He  resigned  his  position  as  president  of 
the  Clericus  Club,  which  he  had  held  since  its  formation,  feeling 
that,  while  he  was  at  liberty  to  retain  his  membership,  it  was  no 
longer  becoming  that  he  should  be  so  closely  identified  with  any 
one  organization  of  the  clergy.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Club  on  Oc- 
tober 5,  when  his  resignation  was  to  take  effect,  a  silver  loving  cup 
was  presented  to  him  upon  which  were  engraved  the  names  of  all 
its  active  members.  Large  schemes  were  in  his  mind  for  increas- 
ing the  efficiency  of  the  City  Mission  in  Boston.  He  drew  up  the 
schedule  for  his  first  visitation  of  the  churches  in  the  diocese, 
which  he  proposed  to  begin  among  the  Berkshire  hills  resplen- 
dent with  their  autumn  foliage.     He  looked  forward  to  his  work 


CORRESPONDENCE  601 

with  pleasure,  but  his  heart  was  heavy  under  the  changes  that 
it  involved.  The  review  of  his  years  was  a  sad  undercurrent 
accompanying  each  step  that  he  took.  To  one  of  his  friends 
among  the  clergy  he  wrote  with  reference  to  the  appointments 
he  had  made  for  Episcopal  visits : 

"North  Andover,  September  16,  1891. 

"  You  don't  mind  my  coming  to  you  on  an  off  day,  say  a  Satur- 
day, and  giving  the  big  days  to  men  whom  I  know  less  well,  do 
you?  I  must  take  liberties  with  some  one;  may  I  not  take  them 
with  my  friends  who  know  that  I  love  them  and  care  for  their 
work?  It  may  be  a  big  price  to  pay  for  the  fruitless  joy  of  my 
friendship,  but  such  must  be  the  penalty.  At  least,  this  first 
year  I  will  try  to  stand  by  my  appointments  and  let  men  first 
see  that  I  want  to  know  the  men  and  the  places  which  I  now 
know  least,  and  that  I  am  not  tempted  by  the  prospect  of  fair 
Sundays  in  my  good  friend's  rectory.  Read  this  between  the 
lines  when  the  list  comes  out  and  forgive  me  for  Saturday 
afternoon. 

"I  shall  run  in  on  you  more  than  once  during  my  Berkshire 
wanderings  this  autumn.  There  is  no  exhilaration  about  the  new 
work  yet,  but  it  will  come.  At  present,  there  is  mostly  a  deep 
sense  of  what  the  past  twenty-two  years  have  been  and  of  what 
I  would  make  them  if  I  could  have  them  again,  but  I  must  not 
trouble  you  with  that." 

He  speaks  of  the  death  of  Lowell,  at  whose  funeral  he  had 
officiated:  "And  Lowell  is  dead!  It  makes  the  world  emptier 
and  sadder.  No  man  of  letters  has  begun  to  do  so  much  good 
work  as  he  has  done,  and  his  whole  bearing  in  the  world  has  been 
a  blessing.  He  was  so  brave  and  true  and  kind  and  simple." 
He  joined  the  Sons  of  the  American  Revolution,  of  which  he  says 
in  a  letter  to  his  brother  Arthur:  "We  do  not  seem  to  be  very 
rich  in  military  ancestry,  but  our  Phillips  folks  were  certainly 
true  patriots,  and  did  their  part  in  the  council  chamber,  if  not 
in  the  field,  to  set  the  new  nation  on  its  feet.  So  let  's  go  in  for 
the  assertion  that  our  dear  land  at  least  used  to  be  American." 

Interesting  invitations  came  to  him,  but  he  does  not  seem  to 
have  considered  any  of  them  as  possibilities;  he  was  shutting 
himself  up  more  and  more  to  his  distinctive  work.  He  was  in- 
vited to  make  the  address  in  New  York  before  the  society  formed 
under  the  inspiration  of  General  Sherman,  to  commemorate  annu- 
ally the  birthday  of  General  Grant  on  the  27th  of  April.     He 


6o2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

declined  to  take  any  part  in  the  Parliament  of  Religions  to  be 
held  in  Chicago  at  the  approaching  World's  Fair  in  1893.  He 
was  asked  by  Dr.  Montagu  Butler,  of  Trinity  College,  of  the  Eng- 
lish Cambridge,  to  allow  his  name  to  be  placed  in  the  list  of 
"Select  Preachers,"  and  to  fill  the  university  pulpit  on  Whit- 
sunday in  1892.  The  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity,  Dr.  H.  B. 
Swete,  chairman  of  the  Special  Board  of  Divinity,  urged  him  to 
accept  a  nomination  to  the  office  of  Lecturer  on  Pastoral  The- 
ology for  the  year  1891-92,  suggesting  that  the  subject  of  the 
course  should  be  "Preaching."  He  could  not  bring  himself  to 
accept  an  invitation  from  Mr.  John  Quincy  Adams,  president  of 
the  Harvard  Alumni  Association,  to  make  a  speech  at  the  Com- 
mencement dinner.  He  accepted  one  honor  which  cost  him  no 
effort  but  gave  him  pleasure,  honorary  membership  of  the  Alpha 
Delta  Phi  Club  in  New  York.  He  also  gave  in  his  name  after 
serious  deliberation  as  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends  of 
Russian  Freedom. 

He  suffered  through  his  sympathy  with  dear  friends  in  their 
heavy  bereavement;  many  were  the  letters  of  condolence  which 
he  wrote.  He  went  out  to  Cambridge  to  officiate  on  the  occasion 
of  the  death  of  a  member  of  the  University  crew.  Of  the  prayer 
which  he  made,  Professor  Peabody  remarked,  "It  was  the 
greatest  illustration  of  the  power  of  free  prayer  that  I  ever  heard 
or  read  of." 

On  June  16  he  was  present  at  the  alumni  dinner  of  the  Epis- 
copal Theological  School, — an  occasion  of  unusual  interest  and 
enthusiasm,  for  the  event  which  was  to  separate  him  to 
some  extent  from  other  institutions  of  learning  was  to  bring 
him  closer  to  its  students.  In  the  course  of  his  address  he  re- 
marked: "  What  this  school  seeks  to  do  is  not  to  turn  out  men  of 
one  school  of  thought  or  of  a  single  stamp,  but  men  great  in 
every  way — thinkers,  scholars,  preachers,  saints." 

Wherever  Phillips  Brooks  went  now,  he  went  accompanied 
by  a  great  concourse  of  the  people.  He  preached  at  the  Church 
of  the  Incarnation  in  New  York  on  the  Sunday  after  Ascension 
Day.  "That  is  equivalent  to  saying,"  writes  the  correspondent 
of  a  New  York  paper,  "that  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation  was 
the  conspicuous  attraction  of  the  day."  On  October  4,  the  first 
Sunday  after  the  opening  of  the  college  year,  he  was  at  Harvard, 


FAREWELL  SERMONS  603 

and  the  chapel  was  "jammed  with  more  than  fifteen  hundred 
people."  His  sermon  was  from  his  favorite  text,  "I  am  come 
that  they  might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more 
abundantly."  Though  he  had  often  preached  on  the  text,  this 
sermon  was  new,  and,  what  was  now  most  rare,  a  written  sermon. 
It  was  also  the  last  sermon  that  he  would  write,  and  this  was  to 
be  his  last  appearance  in  Appleton  Chapel  as  one  of  the  officers  of 
the  University.  The  necessity  of  vitality  and  the  glory  of 
obedience  was  his  subject.  The  sermon  was  simple,  but  beneath 
it  lay  an  ocean  of  human  experience.  He  closed  with  these 
words : 

"If  there  is  any  man  of  whom  this  place  makes  a  skeptic  or  a 
profligate,  what  can  we  sadly  say  but  this :  he  was  not  worthy  of 
the  place  to  which  he  came;  he  was  not  up  to  Harvard  College. 
But  the  man  with  true  soul  cannot  be  ruined  here.  Coming  here 
humbly,  bravely,  he  shall  meet  his  Christ.  Here  he  shall  come 
into  the  fuller  presence  of  the  Christ  whom  he  has  known  and 
loved  in  the  dear  Christian  home  from  which  he  came,  and  know 
and  love  Him  more  than  ever. 

"'I  am  come  to  you  here,  where  men  have  dreaded  and  said 
that  I  could  not  come.  I  am  come  to  you  that  you  may  have 
life,  and  have  it  more  abundantly. '  So  speaks  the  Christ  to  the 
students.  Of  such  life,  and  of  brave,  earnest  men  entering  into 
its  richness,  may  this  new  year  of  the  old  College  life  be  full!" 

On  Sunday,  October  n,  he  stood  in  his  place  at  Trinity 
Church, — the  last  Sunday  when  he  should  officiate  as  its  rector 
after  a  ministry  of  twenty-two  years.  There  had  been  great 
days  at  Trinity;  this  day  also  was  now  to  be  included  among 
them.  The  intense  feeling,  the  common  bond  of  a  sorrow  that 
could  not  be  measured,  the  sense  of  finality,  combined  to  give 
every  word  of  the  preacher  unusual  significance  and  force. 
He  must  have  felt  more  than  any  one  the  oppressive  mood  of 
the  waiting  congregation. 

The  sermon,  without  any  formal  farewell,  had  the  essence  of 
parting  words.  The  text  was,  "Let  your  light  so  shine  before 
men  that  they  may  see  your  good  works  and  glorify  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven."  From  every  text  he  now  deduced  one 
common  message;  these  words,  he  said,  "were  words  of  hope, 
of  splendor,  and  of  life.     Life  is  love ;  Christ  is  the  great  source  of 


6o4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

light  and  life.     God  is  forever  seeking  His  children ;  no  depth  is 
too  deep  for  Him  to  go  after  you." 

"  For  these  twenty-two  years  I  have  preached  this  to  you,  and  I 
have  had  no  word  to  say  to  you  but  that  you  are  God's,  and  that 
there  is  no  depth  of  perdition  into  which  you  can  sink  from 
which  God  will  not  go  after  you  to  lift  you  up.  Give  yourself 
up  to  Him." 

Again  in  the  afternoon  the  same  immense  congregation 
came  for  the  evening  prayers,  and  another  sermon  of  equal 
power  was  preached  from  the  words:  "The  spirit  and  the  bride 
say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth  say,  Come.  And  he  that 
is  athirst,  let  him  come.  He  that  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of 
life  freely." 

"These  words  are  full  of  exhilaration  and  hope,  full  of  invita- 
tion and  expectation.  While  they  are  filled  with  the  great  bur- 
den and  sense  of  life,  they  are  also  anticipating  the  life  that  is  to 
come.  With  every  good  healthy  mind  this  is  a  necessity,  that 
everything  which  has  been  bears  in  its  bosom  that  which  is  to  be, 
and  fills  him  with  expectation  and  hope." 

Once  more,  in  the  evening,  he  preached  at  St.  Andrew's 
Church,  attended  there  by  the  same  great  throng  of  hearers. 
"He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things"  were  the  words 
of  his  text.  His  life  as  a  parish  minister  was  closing  with  the 
utterance  which  had  been  his  mother's  prayer  for  him  in  almost 
every  letter  she  wrote,  as  he  was  beginning  his  career  in  the  little 
Church  of  the  Advent  in  Philadelphia. 

He  had  been  speaking  to  himself  all  the  day  long  while  preach- 
ing to  others.  His  words  were  brave  and  uplifting,  but  his 
heart  was  heavy.  "In  giving  up  Trinity  Church,  I  know  what 
it  must  be  to  die,"  was  the  language  of  his  despondency.  Through 
this  waiting  period  of  months,  his  life  was  passing  in  review  before 
him.  He  inwardly  groaned  that  he  might  live  it  over  again,  and 
how  different  it  would  be!  What  would  he  not  make  of  it,  could 
he  have  the  opportunity!  In  the  light  of  what  it  had  been,  or 
what  it  might  have  been,  he  condemned  his  life  as  a  failure.  In 
the  searching  self-examination  things  looked  differently  as  one 
after  another  they  were  exposed  in  the  strong  searchlight  of  the 
reality.     All  that  had  been  unreal,  the  conformity  in  any  degree 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE  605 

to  the  passing  intellectual  fashions  of  the  hour,  rose  up  before 
him  for  condemnation.  He  saw  that  he  had  not  been  wholly  in 
sympathy  with  the  age  and  the  time,  with  its  "burning  ques- 
tions," whose  solution  contributed  nothing  to  life.  In  this  mood 
he  refused  to  identify  himself  with  any  attitude  or  purpose 
not  vitally  related  to  Christian  living.  But  we  may  not  intrude 
into  the  agony  of  a  great  soul.  He  was  not  given  to  speaking  of 
his  own  religious  experience.  The  mask  of  impersonality,  with 
which  he  clothed  himself  in  his  youth  as  a  garment  and  a  panoply, 
he  wore  to  the  end.  But  there  is  one  of  his  letters  where  he  drops 
the  mask,  to  tell  us  only  what  we  know  without  his  telling  it. 
It  was  during  the  days  of  his  trial,  when  his  deeds  and  his  words 
were  misrepresented,  and  his  truth  turned  into  a  lie;  when  the 
Spirit  was  bearing  witness,  "  He  is  a  chosen  vessel  unto  me,  and  I 
will  show  him  what  great  things  he  must  suffer  for  my  name's 
sake," — it  was  during  those  days  that  he  received  a  letter  asking 
him  to  tell  the  secret  of  his  life.  He  was  moved  by  the  request, 
and  this  was  the  letter  he  wrote  in  reply: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  June  30,  1891. 

"My  dear  Addison, — I  am  sure  you  will  not  think  that  I 
dream  that  I  have  any  secret  to  tell.  I  have  only  the  testimony 
to  bear  which  any  friend  may  fully  bear  to  his  friend  when  he 
is  cordially  asked  for  it,  as  you  have  asked  me. 

"Indeed,  the  more  I  have  thought  it  over,  the  less  in  some  sense 
I  have  seemed  to  have  to  say.  And  yet  the  more  sure  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  these  last  years  have  had  a  peace  and  fulness 
which  there  did  not  use  to  be.  I  say  it  in  deep  reverence  and 
humility.  I  do  not  think  it  is  the  mere  quietness  of  advancing 
age.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  indifference  to  anything  which  I  used  to 
care  for.  I  am  sure  that  it  is  a  deeper  knowledge  and  truer 
love  of  Christ. 

"And  it  seems  to  me  impossible  that  this  should  have  come  in 
any  way  except  by  the  experience  of  life.  I  find  myself  pitying 
the  friends  of  my  youth,  who  died  when  we  were  twenty-five 
years  old,  because  whatever  may  be  the  richness  of  the  life  to 
which  they  have  gone,  and  in  which  they  have  been  living  ever 
since,  they  never  can  know  that  particular  manifestation  of  Christ 
which  He  makes  to  us  here  on  earth,  at  each  successive  period  of 
our  human  life.  All  experience  comes  to  be  but  more  and  more 
of  pressure  of  His  life  on  ours.  It  cannot  come  by  one  flash  of 
light,  or  one  great  convulsive  event.  It  comes  without  haste 
and  without  rest  in  this  perpetual  living  of  our  life  with  Him. 
And  all  the  history,  of  outer  or  inner  life,  of  the  changes  of  cir- 


6o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

cumstances,  or  the  changes  of  thought,  gets  its  meaning  and 
value  from  this  constantly  growing  relation  to  Christ. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  personal  this  grows  to  me.  He  is  here. 
He  knows  me  and  I  know  Him.  It  is  no  figure  of  speech.  It 
is  the  reallest  thing  in  the  world.  And  every  day  makes  it 
realler.  And  one  wonders  with  delight  what  it  will  grow  to  as 
the  years  go  on. 

"The  ministry  in  which  these  years  have  been  spent  seems  to 
me  the  fulfilment  of  life.  It  is  man  living  the  best  human  life 
with  the  greatest  opportunities  of  character  and  service.  And 
therefore  on  the  ministry  most  closely  may  come  the  pressure  of 
Christ.     Therefore  let  us  thank  God  that  we  are  ministers. 

"  Less  and  less,  I  think,  grows  the  consciousness  of  seeking  God. 
Greater  and  greater  grows  the  certainty  that  He  is  seeking  us  and 
giving  Himself  to  us  to  the  complete  measure  of  our  present  ca- 
pacity. That  is  Love,  not  that  we  loved  Him,  but  that  He  loved 
us.  I  am  sure  that  we  ought  to  dwell  far  more  upon  God's  love 
for  us  than  on  our  love  for  Him.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  put- 
ting ourselves  in  the  way  of  God's  overflowing  love  and  letting  it 
break  upon  us  till  the  response  of  love  to  Him  comes,  not  by 
struggle,  not  even  by  deliberation,  but  by  necessity,  as  the  echo 
comes  when  the  sound  strikes  the  rock.  And  this  which  must 
have  been  true  wherever  the  soul  of  God  and  the  soul  of  man  have 
lived  is  perfectly  and  finally  manifest  in  the  Christhood  of  which 
it  is  the  heart  and  soul. 

' '  There  is  something  very  rich  and  true  in  the  Bible  talk  about 
'waiting  for  the  Lord.'  The  waiting  which  is  meant  (and  we 
know  in  our  own  lives  what  that  waiting  is)  is  having. 

"Nothing  but  life  can  reveal  Him  who  is  the  Life,  and  so  we 
cannot  be  impatient  but  by  and  by  we  are  satisfied,  when  every- 
thing that  happens  to  us,  without  or  within,  comes  to  seem  to  us 
a  new  token  of  His  presence  and  sign  of  His  love. 

"  I  have  written  fully  and  will  not  even  read  over  what  I  have 
written,  lest  I  should  be  led  to  repent  that  I  have  written  so  much 
about  myself.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  so.  But  your 
letter  moves  me,  and  you  will  understand. 

"Some  day  we  will  talk  of  all  these  things.  I  hope  that  you 
will  give  me  the  chance  as  soon  as  you  can. 

"Meanwhile,  you  know  how  truly  I  ask  God  to  bless  you,  and 
how  sincerely  I  am 

"Your  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

1891-1892. 

CONSECRATION  AS  BISHOP.  THE  CHURCH  CONGRESS  AT 
WASHINGTON.  ADMINISTRATIVE  CAPACITY.  ILL- 
NESS. LENTEN  ADDRESSES.  UNION  SERVICE  ON 
GOOD    FRIDAY.  CONVENTION    ADDRESS.  CORRE- 

SPONDENCE. SUMMER  ABROAD.  ENGLISH  VOLUME 
OF  SERMONS.  RETURN  TO  BOSTON.  ST.  ANDREW'S 
BROTHERHOOD.  THE    GENERAL    CONVENTION    IN 

BALTIMORE.  DEATH  OF  TENNYSON.  CORRESPOND- 
ENCE. 

The  universal  interest  in  the  election  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  the 
episcopate  culminated  with  the  consecration  service  at  Trinity 
Church.  Those  who  were  present  were  but  the  smallest  fraction 
of  the  people  without  who  were  there  in  spirit.  It  was  something 
phenomenal;  nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  known  before  in 
American  religious  history.  As  an  event  it  rivalled  in  importance 
an  exciting  political  campaign,  or  foreign  news  which  touched 
the  problems  of  peace  or  war.  The  popular  feeling  tended  to  go 
beyond  bounds  in  its  expressions  of  devotion  and  gratitude. 
The  "Universal  Church"  was  represented  in  the  consecration 
of  Phillips  Brooks  as  bishop.  "All  of  us  might  accept  the  'his- 
toric episcopate '  as  he  will  define  and  embody  it.  No  denomina- 
tion can  wholly  claim  such  a  man.  He  is  a  bishop  for  us  all." 
This  was  the  feeling  of  the  hour. 

On  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  October  14,  the  crowd  took 
possession  of  Copley  Square  long  before  the  service  began.  The 
day  which  opened  with  clouds  and  threats  of  inopportune  weather, 
developed  into  one  of  sunlight  and  beauty.  In  the  robing-room 
were  gathered  those  who  were  to  officiate:  Bishop  Williams,  of 
Connecticut,  the  presiding  bishop,  who  was  to  act  as  consecrator ; 
Bishop  Doane,  of  Albany;  Bishop  Littlejohn,  of  Long  Island; 

607 


6o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Bishop  Howe,  of  Central  Pennsylvania;  Bishop  Niles,  of  New 
Hampshire;  Bishop  Clark,  of  Rhode  Island,  and  Bishop  Whipple, 
of  Minnesota,  who  had  been  chosen  by  the  bishop-elect  to  act  as 
his  presenters;  Bishop  Potter,  of  New  York,  who  was  to  preach 
the  sermon;  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks  and  Rev.  John  Cotton  Brooks, 
who  were  to  be  the  attendant  presbyters.  In  the  chapel  were 
some  four  hundred  clergy,  of  whom  a  third  were  visitors  from 
other  dioceses.  Just  before  the  procession  started,  there  was  a 
pause  in  order  to  allow  the  reading  of  a  protest,  signed  by  two 
bishops,  against  the  consecration  of  Phillips  Brooks.  When  the 
protest  had  been  read,  at  once  the  signal  was  given  for  the  organ, 
and  the  procession  moved  to  the  west  entrance  of  the  church,  and 
the  hymns  sung  were  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God  Almighty'' 
and  "The  God  of  Abraham  praise."  It  was  a  state  and  civic  event 
as  well  as  an  ecclesiastical :  the  governor  of  the  Commonwealth, 
the  mayor  of  Boston,  and  the  president  of  Harvard  College  had 
been  invited  as  honored  guests,  and  the  city  of  Boston  had  sent 
flowers  for  the  decoration  of  the  church  within  and  around  the 
portals.  One  incident  in  the  service  was  noted — a  reminder  of 
the  fiery  trial  through  which  he  had  passed:  when,  throwing  back 
his  head  and  expanding  his  figure  to  its  full  proportions,  he  made 
the  promise  of  conformity:  "I,  Phillips  Brooks,  chosen  Bishop  of 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  of  Massachusetts,  do  promise 
conformity  and  obedience  to  the  Doctrine,  Discipline,  and  Wor- 
ship of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States  of 
America.     So  help  me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ." 

After  the  consecration,  Bishop  Williams  took  the  new  bishop 
by  the  hand  and  led  him  into  the  chancel.  It  seemed  bewilder- 
ing that  Phillips  Brooks  should  sit  in  his  own  church  listening  to 
the  sermon  of  another,  and  then  be  conducted  by  another  to  the 
spot  where  for  many  years  he  had  stood  to  administer  the  Lord's 
Supper.  But  all  found  consolation  in  the  enlargement  that 
opened  before  him.  A  peculiar  effectiveness  was  given  to  the 
ceremonial  under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  A.  J.  C.  Sowdon, 
an  acknowledged  master  in  such  things.  The  Proprietors  of 
Trinity  Church  made  arrangements  by  which  he  should  retain 
the  house  on  Clarendon  Street  as  his  Episcopal  residence.  On 
October  16,  two  days  after  the  consecration,  the  new  bishop 
wrote: 


THE  BISHOP  609 

"The  thing  has  drawn  itself  out  so  long  that  it  is  hard  to  be- 
lieve that  it  is  over.  But  the  change  of  daily  occupation  reminds 
me  constantly  that  I  am  a  bishop,  and  is  rapidly  making  the  new 
name  familiar. 

"There  is  no  wild  exhilaration  about  it,  but  a  quiet  content 
that  it  is  all  right,  and  an  anticipation  of  the  work  as  full  of  in- 
terest and  satisfaction. 

In  an  address  which  he  made  to  a  large  representative  assem- 
bly of  laymen  on  October  27,  the  bishop  was  deeply  moved: 

"I  cannot  tell  you  how  full  my  heart  is,  and  how  earnestly  I 
wish  to  do  all  in  my  power  for  the  Church  in  this  dear  old  State  of 
Massachusetts.  She  gave  me  birth  and  education,  and  all  that 
has  gone  to  make  a  supremely  happy  life.  I  love  her  rugged 
landscape,  her  blue  skies,  her  rich  history;  and  out  of  her  soil 
came  the  men  who  made  her  what  she  is.  But  I  am  no  Massa- 
chusetts bigot.  I  am  ready  to  welcome  the  new-comers  among 
us.  The  Episcopal  Church  in  Massachusetts  must  work  in  the 
line  of  Massachusetts  people  and  the  Massachusetts  character. 
It  must  become  a  part  of  the  New  England  life  and  make  that 
life  nobler, — so  noble  that  we  shall  dare  to  say  that  there  is  no- 
thing nobler  in  all  the  world,  if  only  it  may  be  touched  with  some 
finer  radiance  from  this  dear  old  Church  of  ours." 

From  this  time  Phillips  Brooks  plunged  into  the  multiplicity 
of  duties  which  appertain  to  a  bishop's  office.  He  was  advised 
by  a  clergyman  of  large  experience,  Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale: 

"I  am  older  than  you,  can  advise  you.  Begin  slowly.  Let 
things  present  themselves  in  order,  and  do  not  try  to  make  an 
order  for  them.  After  you  have  thus  accepted,  for  a  little,  what 
is, — you  will  be  able  to  raise  everything  and  see  what  may  be." 

Professor  James  Bryce,  who  saw  in  his  growing  influence  some 
special  significance  for  the  future  of  American  life,  writes  him 
how  all  his  "English  friends  feel  greater  confidence  in  the  future 
of  the  American  Episcopal  Church  now  that  he  will  be  officially 
connected  with  its  guides."     But  he  adds  a  caution: 

"I  hope  the  duties  of  an  active  kind  may  not,  as  happens  with 
bishops  here,  trench  too  heavily  on  the  time  you  have  hitherto 
given  to  reading  and  thinking;  for  even  the  authority  the  office 
gives  to  guide  church  deliberations  might  be  ill  purchased  by  the 
loss  of  quiet  times." 
39 


6io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

But  he  does  not  seem  to  have  heeded  the  advice.  Fr&m  the 
first  there  was  a  tendency  to  overtax  his  strength,  no  longer  what 
it  was,  or  what  at  his  age  it  should  have  been.  Two  weeks  after 
entering  upon  his  new  work  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "Life  is  so 
terribly  convulsed  and  changed  that  it  seems  incredible  that  the 
old  friends  are  there  and  are  caring  for  me  still." 

On  November  3  he  went  to  the  annual  matriculation  of  the 
Episcopal  Theological  School,  and  spoke  to  the  students: 

"  Here,  in  the  seminary  life,  Christian  truth  and  faith  come  into 
relation.  There  is  no  struggle  between  thought  and  work. 
Some  abandon  work  for  thought;  others  abandon  thought  for 
work.  Never  look  upon  your  work  as  a  refuge  from  thought, 
but  express  your  thought  in  your  work.  Shrink  from  nothing 
God  shall  reveal  to  you.  Trust  yourself  to  Him  wherever  He 
shall  lead  you.  He  watches  over  mind  and  soul.  He  does  not 
separate  them  and  make  them  weak  concessions  of  one  to  the 
other.  Your  seminary  life  is  a  going  aside  for  three  years  with 
Christ,  to  drink  in  His  spirit  and  to  commune  with  Him.  As  you 
open  your  New  Testament  He  says  to  you,  'This  is  who  I  am.' 
When  you  study  church  history,  He  says,  'This  is  but  a  history 
of  me.'  In  psychology  He  says  to  you,  '  I  have  saved  this  human- 
ity by  wearing  it.' " 

One  of  the  first  incidents  of  his  new  life  was  the  call  to  preside 
as  bishop  at  the  Church  Congress  to  be  held  in  Washington  in 
November,  and  to  make  the  Communion  Address  at  its  formal 
opening.  It  was  now  suggested  to  him  that  he  should  avail 
himself  of  the  opportunity  to  declare,  as  he  might  most  ger- 
manely,  his  belief  in  the  "miraculous  Incarnation  and  real  resur- 
rection of  our  Lord."  It  would  do  much,  he  was  told,  to  "con- 
vince the  gainsayers."  Scriptural  precedent  was  adduced, — the 
apostle  bids  us  comfort  the  feeble-minded.  Bishop  Clark,  who 
was  the  go-between  of  those  who  wished  to  approach  Phillips 
Brooks,  wrote  urging  that  he  should  follow  this  advice,  but  he 
firmly  and  even  vehemently  refused.  It  was  impossible  that  he 
should  do  otherwise.  To  take  the  occasion  of  a  Communion 
Address  in  order  to  speak  "to  the  galleries,"  and  be  setting  right 
his  own  reputation,  was  abhorrent.  To  have  acquiesced  would 
have  neutralized  the  \  alue  of  his  silence  while  the  question  of  his 
election  was  pending.  It  would  also  have  been  a  failure  in  its 
object,  and  have  quieted  no  one.     What  was  really  wanted  from 


THE  BISHOP  6u 

him  was  an  apology  for  his  association  in  religious  services  with 
Unitarians,  and  his  promise  to  offend  no  more.  So  Bishop  Clark 
found  his  protege  refractory.  Several  times  had  his  good  offers 
been  declined.  He  had  gently  suggested  to  Phillips  Brooks  that 
as  a  bishop  it  might  be  more  becoming  if  he  adopted  the  conven- 
tional dress  of  the  clergy.  To  this  appeal  Phillips  Brooks  had 
replied:  "  Now,  Mr.  Clark,  you  know  very  well  it  was  Henry  Pot- 
ter who  put  you  up  to  giving  me  that  advice."  The  following 
letter  of  Bishop  Clark  shows  at  least  he  was  not  offended  by  the 
rejection  of  his  good  offices: 

Providence,  November  4,  1891. 

"  My  dear  Brother  Brooks, — I  am  a  little  bit  sorry  that  you 
found  my  letter;  not  that  it  contains  anything  that  I  would  re- 
voke, for  I  still  think  it  would  be  right  and  proper  for  you  to 
say  at  the  Church  Congress  the  words  you  would  be  most  natu- 
rally inclined  to  say,  even  if  they  did  tend  to  allay  the  anx- 
ieties of  certain  good  people,  whose  minds  have  been  prejudiced 
by  a  persistent  series  of  misrepresentations.  As  I  intimated  in 
my  last  letter,  I  was  afraid  that  you  would  reply  just  as  you  have 
done,  because  I  knew  that  you  stand  upon  a  very  lofty  moral 
pedestal  and  have  a  special  aversion  to  all  shams  and  pretences. 
As  I  happen  to  occupy  a  lower  plane,  perhaps  I  might  be  willing 
to  do  what  you  would  decline  doing. 

"The  vehemence  of  your  first  letter  I  admired  very  much;  it 
was  one  of  the  chief  attractions  of  the  epistle.  The  lion  always 
appears  at  his  best  when  he  is  in  a  righteous  rage.  One  lesson, 
however,  I  have  learned,  and  that  is  to  abstain  from  any  further 
interference,  and  let  other  people  roast  their  own  chestnuts. 

"And  so,  henceforth,  beloved  Brother,  go  thine  own  way.  I 
will  disturb  thee  no  more.  Prudent  or  imprudent,  silent  or  out- 
spoken, deliberate  or  not,  thou  art  likely  to  come  out  all  right 
in  the  end.  I  assume  no  longer  the  post  of  guide,  philosopher, 
and  friend,  confining  myself  entirely  to  the  latter  function.  But 
if,  in  thy  comet-like  sweep  through  the  heavens,  thou  shouldest 
ever  find  thyself  in  a  tight  place  among  the  suns,  and  the  stars, 
and  the  planets,  and  the  little  ecclesiastical  moons,  I  shall  always 
be  at  thy  service. 

"Just  as  affectionately  yours  as  ever,  and  a  little  more  so, 

"Thomas  M.  Clark." 

The  address  for  the  Church  Congress  was  prepared  without 
any,  the  slightest,  allusion  that  could  be  construed  as  explanatory 
or  apologetic.     He  still  felt  about  Church  Congresses  as  in  his 


612  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

earlier  years.     In  writing  to  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks  about  the  ar- 
rangement for  trains,  he  adds : 

"But  the  Congress  is  the  great  thing.  Let  us  cast  dull  care 
away  and  go  in  for  enjoyment.  For  the  Church  needs  us  radical 
old  fellows  to  keep  the  conservatism  of  its  young  men  from  rot- 
ting, and  we  must  take  good  care  of  our  health." 

The  city  of  Washington  was  moved  at  his  coming.  Not  even 
the  drizzling  rain  deterred  the  people  from  waiting  an  hour  be- 
fore the  doors  of  Epiphany  Church  were  opened.  The  address 
was  beautiful  in  its  simplicity  and  adaptedness:  "Jesus  seeing 
their  faith  said  unto  the  sick  of  the  palsy,  Son,  be  of  good  cheer, 
thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee." 

Bishop  Brooks  had  taken  up  his  new  work  in  a  serene  and 
happy  mood.  He  was  determined  that  all  should  be  his  friends 
among  clergy  and  laity,  and  to  allow  no  opening  for  enmities. 
His  happiness  showed  itself  in  many  ways, — in  his  note-books, 
where  he  begins  again,  as  in  his  youth,  to  record  his  thoughts,  as 
if  life  were  opening  anew  before  him.  It  was  a  vast  relief,  as  he 
alone  best  appreciated,  that  he  was  free  from  the  burden  of  the 
parish  minister,  which  had  become  greater  than  he  could  bear. 
The  task  of  preaching  might  now  be  reduced  within  limits  that 
would  no  longer  exhaust  his  physical  vitality.  It  seemed  at 
first,  despite  the  multiplicity  of  engagements,  that  he  had  more 
time  at  his  disposal  for  reading  and  quiet  thinking.  He  carried 
books  with  him  as  he  went  on  his  episcopal  visitations.  He 
loved  to  travel,  to  go  into  new  towns,  to  become  acquainted  with 
people,  to  visit  a  hundred  homes  where  he  had  the  privilege  of 
being  admitted  as  guest.  He  could  not  believe  that  his  work 
would  ever  become  perfunctory.  When  he  was  told  that  the 
recitation  of  the  bishop's  formula  in  the  confirmation  office 
tended  to  formality,  he  would  not  believe  that  he  could  ever 
be  unsympathetic  at  the  sound  of  those  little  words,  "I  do," 
coming  from  young  hearts  at  a  great  moment  in  their  lives. 

He  now  showed  that  he  possessed  capacity  for  the  administra- 
tion of  affairs  which  some  had  doubted.  He  soon  mastered  the 
details  of  the  office.  The  affairs  of  the  diocese,  numerous  and 
perplexing  as  they  were,  did  not  vex  his  peace  of  mind.  There 
came  hundreds  of  appeals  from  clergymen  for  admission  to  the 


THE  BISHOP  613 

diocese;  he  was  called  upon  to  adjust  difficulties  in  parishes;  to 
offer  advice  upon  every  conceivable  subject.  The  church  must 
have  looked  differently  to  him  in  this  nearer  view  from  what  it 
had  done  when  he  gazed  at  it  from  the  pulpit  and  saw  only  the 
crowds  of  eager  listeners  to  his  words. 

He  showed  a  tendency,  says  Bishop  Lawrence,  to  be  a  strict 
canonist.  This  disposition  was  manifested  in  his  dealings  with 
candidates  for  Orders.  He  wished  it  to  be  understood  that 
they  were  to  go,  when  ordered  deacons,  where  he  should  send 
them.  There  would  be  no  relaxation  of  this  rule.  "I  pity 
them,  but  they  have  got  to  go."  He  believed  in  government  in 
church  or  state,  and  that  government  was  a  divine  ordering,  not 
the  arrangement  of  a  committee.  In  an  address  to  the  students 
of  the  Theological  School  in  Cambridge,  he  was  very  practical 
in  his  suggestions.  The  first  point  he  made  was  in  regard  to 
legibility  of  handwriting.  "Small  causes  lead  to  great  failures." 
But  he  soon  sailed  out  on  the  ocean  of  principles:  "Promptness 
must  come  from  fulness.  Get  everything  bigger."  He  talked, 
said  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  "as  if  he  had  some  large  plans  in 
contemplation  for  the  extension  of  the  Church's  work  and  use- 
fulness, and  was  not  going  into  it  vaguely."  He  sent  to  the 
State  House  for  books  or  documents  which  would  give  informa- 
tion as  to  the  population,  and  the  character  of  the  population, 
in  the  various  towns  and  cities  of  the  Commonwealth.  He  was 
studying  the  State  of  Massachusetts  in  its  relation  to  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  the  causes  which  had  hindered  its  growth,  the 
motive  of  its  strongest  appeal.  Of  his  three  immediate  predeces- 
sors in  the  episcopal  office,  not  one  had  been  a  Massachusetts  man 
by  birth  or  education.  He  honored  and  loved  Massachusetts, 
knowing  how  to  read  the  beatings  of  its  heart.  To  do  what  he 
was  wanted  to  do,  and  to  do  it  in  the  way  to  which  people  had 
become  accustomed,  was  his  rule.  When  he  visited  a  town,  he 
went  to  the  Episcopal  church,  although  the  townspeople  were 
expecting  that  the  largest  edifice  would  attract  him,  or  some 
large  hall  where  all  might  hear  him.  But  he  wended  his  way, 
as  in  duty  bound,  to  the  small  "Gothic  cathedrals,"  tucked  away 
sometimes  in  a  side  street. 

He  was  forced  to  overcome  his  habit  of  silence,  of  talking  only 
when  he  chose  to  talk  or  had  something  special  to  say.      Now  he 


6i4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

was  expected  to  entertain  the  assembled  company  in  rural 
parsonages.  He  had  one  resource,  in  giving  himself  up  to  the 
children.  Beautiful  accounts  were  written  of  his  entrance  into 
a  household  and  establishing  at  once  with  the  children  a  familiar 
footing,  so  that  he  and  all  in  the  family  were  completely  at  home. 

"His  modesty  was  conspicuous  on  his  visitations.     One  day 

he  was  met  at  the  station  in  Fall  River  by  Rev.  Mr.  S ,  who 

turned  to  help  him  with  his  valise.  But  he  refused,  saying  he 
was  able  to  carry  it  himself.      As  they  came  to  a  carriage  Mr. 

S asked  him  to  step  in,  but  he  stood  back  and  said,  'Get  in 

yourself  first,  S ,  never  mind  me.'  He  had  a  way  of  refus- 
ing carriages.     Once  when  he  had  been  out  to  a  service  in  a 

suburban  town,  and  was  leaving  the  church,  Mr.  C said, 

'Bishop,  there  is  a  carriage  for  you  at  the  door.'  'I  sent  it 
away,'  he  answered.  'It  would  have  gratified  our  people  if  you 

had  used  it,'  said  Mr.  C .     'I  preferred  not  to  do  so.     I  can 

go  into  town  just  as  well  in  the  horse  cars.'  " 

In  January  Bishop  Brooks  was  seriously  ill  with  an  attack 
of  the  grippe.  From  the  despondency  which  accompanies  the 
disease  he  was  some  time  in  recovering,  nor  did  he  ever  recover 
from  the  effects  of  that  lamentable  illness.  To  a  friend  who 
called  upon  him,  he  remarked  that  there  had  been  one  bishop  of 
Massachusetts  who  never  performed  an  episcopal  function,  and 
he  was  afraid  there  would  be  a  second  of  whom  the  same  would 
be  said.  In  answer  to  some  request  he  said  that  the  only  thing 
he  could  not  give  was  cheerfulness. 

"  233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  21,  1892. 

"Dear  Arthur, — How  strange  it  all  is,  this  being  sick!  I 
am  not  out  yet  except  for  necessary  duties,  when  I  go  in  car- 
riages, wrapped  up  like  a  mummy  and  actually  afraid  of  draughts, 
like  an  old  woman.  I  hope  it  is  most  over,  but  the  weather  is 
beastly,  and  the  doctor  is  so  cautious  and  the  legs  so  weak  that  I 
don't  feel  very  sure  of  anything.  Fortunately  the  doctor  smiles 
on  my  going  to  Philadelphia  next  week,  and  thinks  the  change 
will  do  me  good.  .  .  .  On  Friday,  the  19th  of  February,  I  am 
coming  on  to  the  dinner  of  the  New  York  Harvard  Club,  and  I 
shall  count  on  you  to  take  me  in  over  night.  I  never  saw  a  big 
New  York  dinner,  and  I  expect  to  be  delighted  and  dazzled  in  my 
provincial  eyes. 

"And  you  must  send  me  the  [episcopal]  seal  as  soon  as  it  is 
done.     I  am  impatient  for  it, — not  that  I  have  suffered  at  all 


AT  TRINITY  CHURCH  615 

by  the  delay,  but  I  want  to  get  possession  of  the  gem  of  the 

episcopate,  and  to  show and that  I  have  the  finest  seal 

of  the  lot." 

On  February  n  a  meeting  was  held  in  Boston,  where  the 
laity,  who  had  been  invited  to  meet  the  city  clergy,  were  present. 
The  object  of  the  meeting  as  stated  in  the  bishop's  circular  letter, 
and  more  fully  in  his  address,  was  to  rouse  the  laity  to  individual 
and  also  concerted  effort  in  order  to  meet  people  in  sections  of 
the  city  devoid  of  religious  or  moral  influence  who  could  not  be 
reached  by  organized  parochial  work.  This  was  the  first  step 
taken  on  a  large  scale  by  the  bishop  to  carry  out  some  more  com- 
prehensive plan  for  increasing  the  efficiency  of  the  Episcopal 
Church. 

Ash  Wednesday  fell  on  March  2,  and,  as  Trinity  Church  was 
without  a  rector,  Bishop  Brooks  consented  to  take  the  Friday 
evening  lectures.  He  also  gave  during  Lent  the  Monday  noon 
addresses  at  St.  Paul's.  It  need  only  be  said  of  these  latter  ad- 
dresses that  they  were  a  repetition  of  the  scene  in  New  York,  or 
the  previous  year  in  Boston-  The  addresses  were  intended  for 
business  men,  and  they  were  there ;  but  the  clergy  were  there  in 
large  numbers  and  of  every  denomination,  as  though  the  ad- 
dresses were  condones  ad  clerum. 

The  Friday  evening  lectures  at  Trinity  were  of  another  kind, 
full  of  the  overflowing  tenderness  and  love  of  a  pastor  still  in 
relation  to  his  people,  unable  to  sever  the  tie  which  bound  them 
together.  The  report  of  these  talks  is  by  an  interested  listener. 
At  the  Communion  Service  on  the  evening  of  Holy  Thursday, 
April  14, 

"  He  began  by  speaking  of  the  Lord's  Supper  as  an  anniversary, 
not  only  of  the  Last  Supper,  but  of  the  many  times  we  have  come 
together  to  celebrate  it  through  all  these  years.  The  one  thing 
we  felt  in  reading  about  it  was  the  love  of  Jesus  for  His  disciples: 
'with  desire  have  I  desired.'  He  named  one  disciple  after  an- 
other, and  characterized  each  by  a  most  masterly  touch,  so  that 
each  stood  out  a  figure  full  of  interest  whom  you  felt  you  knew 
and  loved.  They  were  all,  with  their  interesting  varied  person- 
alities and  experiences,  gathered  in  that  room  and  Jesus  knew 
them  all,  every  one,  and  loved  each  one  of  them.  And  as  He 
looked  into  face  after  face,  and  moved  about  among  them,  His 


616  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

love  filled  all  the  place.  He  made  it  all  most  sacred,  personal, 
the  fire  of  His  love  transforming  all  their  souls  into  perfect  one- 
ness with  Him.  Then,  while  it  was  all  so  near  and  present.  He 
looks  forward  and  says,  '  I  will  not  drink  of  this  again  till  I  drink 
it  new  with  you  in  the  Kingdom.'  The  perfect  assurance  that 
their  love  reached  forward,  beyond,  that  they  could  never  be 
separated,  that  their  lives  were  all  one,  in  Jerusalem  then  and 
afterwards  in  the  heavenly  city." 

On  Good  Friday,  he  took  for  his  text  "  It  is  finished, "  and  be- 
gan by  saying : 

"Good  Friday  was  the  most  important  day  in  the  whole  year; 
it  stood  as  the  greatest  of  all  days  in  its  influence,  in  the  event 
it  commemorated.  It  was  characteristic  of  human  life  that  its 
greatest  day  should  be  its  saddest,  full  of  suffering  and  sorrow. 
It  showed  how  life  in  its  essential  nature  was  sad,  but  it  was  a  day 
of  hope,  its  sorrow  full  of  promise,  and  this  too  was  characteristic 
of  human  life.  He  spoke  about  last  words,  how  interesting 
even  when  they  are  a  stranger's,  how  dear  when  they  are  a 
friend's.  These  last  words  of  Jesus  were  sad.  The  end  of  any- 
thing is  sad.  No  man  leaves  any  experience  without  sadness, 
and  the  end  of  life  is  sad,  even  if  it  is  the  beginning  of  a  richer 
existence. 

"For  who,  to  dumb  Forgetfulness  a  prey, 
This  pleasing  anxious  being  e'er  resigned, 
Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  ling'ring  look  behind." 

When  the  end  of  an  experience  comes,  one  gains  a  comprehen- 
sion of  all  that  has  gone  to  make  up  the  experience.  Details  and 
complexity  are  untangled,  and  the  real  meaning  is  seen.  So  it 
was  with  Jesus.  Galilee  and  the  lake  and  the  temple  all  came 
back  to  Him  and  stood  out  clear  in  those  last  moments.  All 
these  thoughts  were  in  Jesus'  mind  because  He  was  human.  His 
life  on  earth  had  been  an  experience  in  His  eternal  life,  one  which 
was  new  and  would  never  be  repeated ;  it  was  as  a  man  that  He 
ended  it  now  and  passed  from  it  into  His  unending,  divine  ex- 
istence; but  the  experience  would  be  with  Him  always,  making 
more  perfect  His  perfect  nature. 

"  Now  what  did  these  words  '  It  is  finished '  mean  ?  What  was 
finished?  The  answer,  the  rescue  of  humanity.  Just  as  a  father 
seeks  for  his  child  who  has  gone  astray,  and  goes  unresting  day 
and  night  through  vile  haunts  of  sin  and  misery,  and  then  finds 
her  and  places  her  again  in  the  pure  light  of  the  old  home  life, 
and  it  is  finished.     As  a  diver  plunges  into  the  strange  dark 


AT  TRINITY  CHURCH  617 

waters  and  wrestles  with  the  hideous  forms  that  grovel  at  the 
bottom,  and  finds  the  pearl  and  brings  it  to  the  land  in  triumph. 
Anything  more?  Yes,  it  was  more  than  an  act  of  redemption 
that  was  finished ;  it  was  a  creative  act.  There  are  two  creations, 
as  we  read  in  the  Bible.  The  Spirit  of  God  brooding  over  Chaos 
brings  light  and  life  and  order  and  music  out  of  it.  That  was  the 
first  creation.  Then  the  Spirit  of  God  brooded  over  human  life 
so  close  and  near  and  deep  that  it  entered  into  human  life  and  was 
incarnate,  and  wrought  the  mysterious  change  in  the  soul  of  man, 
— the  change  that  brings  order  and  beauty  out  of  chaos  and  sin. 
And  the  power  of  the  incarnation  was  sacrifice,  and  the  power 
of  the  new  creation  is  sacrifice.  When  once  the  spirit  of  sacrifice 
enters,  sin  is  cast  out,  by  the  very  entrance  of  this  spirit,  and  old 
puzzles  and  doubts  and  evil  thoughts  flit  away  like  hateful  birds 
of  night. 

"One  other  point — the  creative  power  is  also  the  ministering 
power.  In  the  natural  creation  more  and  more  it  is  discovered 
that  creation  is  not  one  act  but  a  continuous  process;  so  in  the 
spiritual  creation,  Jesus  creates  and  then  abides  in  the  soul  and 
ministers  to  it  until  it  is  perfect  even  as  the  Father  is  perfect." 

In  the  afternoon  of  Good  Friday  he  commented  on  the  words 
of  St.  Paul,  "Always  bearing  about  in  the  body  the  dying  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  that  the  life  also  of  Jesus  may  be  made  manifest  in 
our  body." 

"St.  Paul  did  not  see  Jesus  die;  perhaps  his  knowledge  of  that 
death,  being  removed  from  the  actual  sight  of  that  anguish  which 
for  the  time  swallowed  up  the  deeper  meaning  of  a  death,  was  in 
some  ways  more  true  and  intelligent.  When  we  see  some  one  die 
we  do  not  at  the  time  catch  the  full  significance  of  the  event. 
Afterwards  we  remember  and  recognize  the  heroism,  the  pa- 
tience, the  triumph,  that  were  in  it.  St.  Paul  says  he  bears  this 
knowledge,  the  dying  of  Jesus,  about  in  his  body.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  notice  how  he  speaks  of  his  body.  Poor,  weak,  small  as  it 
was,  if  tradition  tells  the  truth,  it  was  the  scene,  the  theatre  of  all 
the  great  acts  and  experiences  of  his  soul.  He  honors  it,  recog- 
nizes its  mystery,  its  relation  to  his  spirit,  and  so  when  he  thinks 
of  Jesus'  death  he  says  that  it  is  in  his  body  that  he  bears  that 
knowledge.  There  are  wonderful  pictures  in  the  Old  World, 
everywhere,  representing  the  descent  from  the  cross,  where  the 
disciples  touch  the  cold  stiff  limbs,  though  they  know  that  the 
spirit  of  Jesus  is  no  longer  in  them ;  tenderly  and  lovingly  bearing 
in  their  arms  the  lifeless  body.  The  pictures  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
many  of  the  girl-mother  with  her  baby, — these  have  the  un- 
quenchable joy  of  youth  and  young  motherhood, — but   there 


618  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

are  some  of  the  Mother  of  our  Lord  in  the  fullness  of  mature  life, 
splendid  and  august  in  the  maturity  of  her  beauty  and  her  sor- 
sow.  She  holds  her  Son  dead  across  her  knees,  and  as  she  looks 
down  upon  the  cold,  rigid  limbs,  there  is  in  her  face  sorrow  too 
deep  for  tears.  You  can  see  there  the  destruction  of  all  her 
hopes;  all  the  sacrifices  she  has  made,  the  disappointments,  the 
loneliness  of  His  life.  She  has  felt  them  all  as  mothers  do  the 
experiences  of  their  children,  and  now  He  is  dead,  and  she  is 
dying  too. 

"  He  talked,  in  closing,  about  how  people  die, — living  peo- 
ple. They  die  when  those  they  love  die.  You  die,  something 
comes  to  an  end.  It  is  all  over.  Death  was  all  about  you 
and  in  you,  death  and  sin,  disappointment,  failure,  misery, 
injustice.  All  crowded  around  that  cross,  and  the  victim  of 
it  suffering  there,  and  those  who  loved  him  dying  too.  That 
was  what  made  the  awful  solemnity  of  life  as  we  go  on  in 
it, — the  bearing  about  in  our  body  the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
We  were  left  in  the  dark  watching  that  figure,  as  it  has  been 
through  the  ages,  suffering  for  all  the  sin  ever  since,  and  for  all 
the  sorrow  and  ignorance,  and  making  us  bear  it  about  in  our 
own  bodies  and  never  rest  or  cease  to  remember  till  we  have  done 
our  part,  have  somehow  carried  this  sacrifice  to  heal  and  bless 
some  part  of  this  weary  world." 

On  the  evening  of  Good  Friday  Bishop  Brooks  was  present 
and  took  part  at  a  union  service  in  the  Old  South  Church  (Con- 
gregational),  when  a  Unitarian  minister  was  also  present,  Dr. 
A.  P.  Peabody,  of  Harvard  College,  for  whom  Phillips  Brooks  felt 
a  filial  reverence  and  affection.  The  event  called  forth  the 
familiar  protest  within  the  diocese  and  woke  up  again  the  op- 
position without,  which  had  been  silent  since  his  consecration. 

On  Wednesday,  May  18,  the  diocesan  convention. met,  when 
Bishop  Brooks  made  his  first  convention  address.  So  great  was 
the  desire  to  hear  him  that  the  occasion  resembled  a  religious 
service  with  its  throng  of  listeners.  Like  his  other  work,  it  had 
a  literary  quality,  and  reads  like  an  interesting  essay  with  ar- 
tistic form.  It  contains  his  wisdom  and  experience  brought  to 
bear  upon  ecclesiastical  matters,  and  placed  at  the  disposal  of 
his  brethren.  It  more  than  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  the 
episcopal  possibilities  that  were  in  him.  It  was  comprehensive 
and  statesmanlike,  with  suggestions  of  practical  and  immediate, 
but  also  of  far-reaching  importance.  It  breathed  a  spirit  of 
universal  charity,  kindly  and  genial,  and  yet  incisive  to  the  last 


CONVENTION  ADDRESS  619 

degree.  Its  recommendations  to  clergy  and  laity  are  still  re- 
membered, still  acted  upon,  as  the  legacy  of  a  great  bishop  who 
filled  out  the  office  in  its  highest  ideal. 

There  was  the  usual  reticence  about  making  statements  of 
his  work,  and  there  was  no  comparative  estimate.  In  the  seven 
months  since  his  consecration  the  number  of  persons  confirmed 
by  him  was  2127.  When  to  these  was  added  the  number  con- 
firmed by  other  bishops  during  the  vacancy  of  the  diocese,  the 
total  was  2395.  In  1890  the  number  of  confirmations  was  1743, 
and  in  1891,  1535, — figures  which  make  apparent  the  modesty 
of  his  remark,  "The  number  of  confirmations  is  a  little  larger 
than  ever  before  in  the  history  of  the  diocese."  There  were 
other  signs  of  vigorous  growth:  the  number  of  candidates  for 
orders  had  increased  from  25  to  36,  the  number  of  clergy  from 
192  to  205,  the  number  of  lay  readers  from  16  to  70.  There  had 
been  a  large  increase  in  the  Episcopal  Fund,  and  the  new  Dio- 
cesan House  had  been  purchased  at  No.  1  Joy  Street,  in  Boston, 
which  offered  ample  accommodation  compared  with  the  "dreary 
hospitality"  of  the  Church  Rooms  in  Hamilton  Place. 

But  these  items  of  growth  showing  the  effect  of  the  new 
enthusiasm  are  not  so  interesting  as  the  suggestions  for  the 
future.  The  bishop  and  the  man  spoke  out  when  outlining 
the  policy  to  be  followed. 

"Is  it  then  true  that  our  Church  has  worthily  conceived  her 
whole  relation  to  the  whole  people  of  this  Commonwealth?  Our 
local  history  accounts  for  much  of  the  defect  of  such  conception. 
We  have  been  for  two  centuries  counted  an  exception,  almost  an 
exotic,  in  New  England.  It  has  seemed  to  those  around  us  as  if 
we  existed  for  the  sake  of  a  certain  class  of  people  of  peculiar 
character  and  antecedents.  To  others  it  has  seemed  as  if  we 
were  of  value  because  we  bore  witness  to  certain  elements  of 
Christian  life  which  were  in  danger  of  being  forgotten  or  neg- 
lected. Probably  it  was  inevitable  that  we  should  come  to  take 
somewhat  the  same  view  of  ourselves  which  others  have  taken  of 
us.  Certainly  we  have  done  so  in  some  degree.  With  all  our 
self-appreciation  we  have  lived  in  a  limited  notion  of  what  it  is 
possible  for  us  to  do.  We  have  been  at  once  bold  and  timid. 
We  have  been  burdened  with  self-consciousness.  We  have  dwelt 
on  what  we  have  called  the  'mission  of  our  Church.'  The  real 
mission  of  our  Church  is  nothing  less  than  the  eternal,  universal 
mission  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  which  is  the  preaching  of  right- 


62o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

eousness,  the  saving  of  souls,  the  building  of  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  All  mere  special  commissions  and  endowments  are  mat- 
ters of  method,  and  ought  to  be  much  less  kept  before  our  con- 
sciousness and  much  less  set  before  the  world. 

' '  And  we  are  too  much  in  the  habit  of  asking,  when  a  new  town 
or  city  is  offered  as  a  possible  field  for  an  Episcopal  church, 
whether  there  are  any  'Church  people'  there,  as  if  that  name 
described  a  special  kind  or  order  of  humanity  to  whom  alone  we 
were  to  consider  ourselves  as  sent.  The  real  question  ought  to 
be  whether  there  are  human  creatures  in  that  town.  We  are  sent 
to  the  human  race.  That  larger  idea  of  our  mission  must  enlarge 
our  spirit  and  our  ways,  and  make  us  fit  to  bear  our  part  in  the 
broad  salvation  of  the  world. 

"Everything  which  I  have  to  say  tends  to  the  strong  assertion 
of  the  truth  that  the  Church  is  bound  to  seek  men;  not  merely 
to  stand  where  men  can  find  her  if  they  wish,  but  to  go  after 
them  and  claim  them.  One  application  of  this  truth  has  forced 
itself  upon  my  notice,- with  reference  to  the  situation  of  our 
churches  in  some  of  the  towns  and  villages  of  our  diocese.  The 
question  of  location  is  altogether  the  most  important  outward 
question  which  arises  in  connection  with  the  establishment  of  a 
new  parish.  It  is  far  more  important  than  the  question  of  archi- 
tecture, important  as  that  is.  Better  an  ugly  church  in  the  right 
place  than  a  gem  of  beauty  where  men  have  to  search  to  find  it. 
But,  once  more,  we  are  driven  to  no  such  alternative.  Rather, 
our  alternative  is  apt  to  be  this:  Whether  it  is  not  best  to  wait 
and  struggle  a  little  longer  and  a  little  harder  to  set  our  church 
at  last  full  in  the  centre  of  the  town's  life,  on  the  town  square, 
where  men  cannot  help  seeing  it  every  day,  where  it  shall  per- 
petually claim  its  right  to  be  recognized  and  heard, — than  to 
take  the  pretty  and  retired  lot  down  some  side  street,  which  we 
can  have  at  once,  which  can  be  bought  cheaply,  or  which  some 
kind  friend  gives  us  for  nothing,  where  the  church  we  build  will 
always  seem  to  declare  itself  not  a  messenger  to  the  whole  people, 
but  the  confidant  and  friend  of  a  few  specially  initiated  people 
who  know  and  love  her  ways,  and  who  will  find  her,  however  she 
may  hide  herself.  Here  certainly  we  need  more  and  not  less 
boldness  and  assurance  of  what  we  are  and  what  we  have  to  do." 

To  a  Candidate  for  Orders  then  in  Germany,  who  had  asked 
regarding  the  interpretation  of  the  Creed: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  April  13,  1892. 

"As  to  the  question  of  your  letter,  I  wish  very  much  that  I 
could  have  the  privilege  of  talking  with  you,  for  writing  is  a 
most  imperfect  method  of  communication.  But  what  I  think 
is  this: 


CORRESPONDENCE  62 1 

"The  Creed  is  drawn  from  the  New  Testament,  and  the  New 
Testament  declares  and  emphasizes  the  peculiar  and  supreme 
nature  of  Christ  as  outgoing  while  it  fulfils  the  nature  of  human- 
ity. It  asserts  that  this,  His  higher  nature,  involved  relations 
with  the  outer  world  more  perfect  and  complete  than  those  which 
belong  to  ordinary  human  lives.  This  assertion  makes  the  story 
of  what  we  call  the  supernatural.  And  both  the  entrance  on  and 
the  departure  from  our  human  life  are  declared  to  have  been  in 
some  way  marked  by  circumstances  which  indicated  his  superior 
nature. 

"In  neither  case  is  the  exact  character  of  the  circumstances 
made  clear,  but  in  both  there  is  the  indication  of  something  ex- 
ceptional, and  therefore  wonderful,  or,  as  we  say,  miraculous. 

"Now  this  is  what  our  Creed  expresses,  and  the  ability  to  repeat 
the  Creed  implies,  therefore,  the  belief  in  the  higher  life  of  Jesus. 
That  higher  life  is  closely  associated  with  the  higher  life  of  man. 
The  divinity  of  Christ  is  not  separate  from  His  humanity.  It  is 
His  total  nature,  which  the  Church  tries  to  express  in  the  large 
statements  of  His  birth  and  death,  which  it  takes  from  the  New 
Testament. 

"There  is  nothing  in  the  results  of  modern  scholarship  which 
conflicts  with  the  statements  in  the  Apostles'  and  Nicene  Creeds 
concerning  the  birth  of  Jesus.  Those  statements  are  variously 
understood  by  various  believers,  but  they  have  this  meaning 
always  in  them,  that  Christ  bore  a  higher  life  than  ours,  and  that 
that  higher  life  manifested  itself  in  the  circumstances  of  His 
experience." 

It  was  a  new  thing  in  the  ecclesiastical  world  for  a  Congrega- 
tional minister  to  request  a  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Church  to 
officiate  at  the  consecration  of  his  church.  Such  a  request  came 
from  the  Rev.  Reuen  Thomas  of  Brookline,  where  the  enlarged 
and  beautiful  church  was  to  be  reopened,  in  which  Phillips  Brooks 
had  often  preached.  He  was  obliged  to  decline  the  request  on 
account  of  his  appointments,  but  wrote  that  he  would  gladly 
have  gone  if  he  could,  adding,  "For  Christian  unity,  such  mes- 
sages as  yours  prove  not  merely  that  it  is  to  be  but  that  it  is." 

To  Mr.  Cooper,  who  had  promised  a  clergyman  that  he  would 
write  to  the  bishop  of  Massachusetts  with  reference  to  any  va- 
cancy in  the  diocese,  Bishop  Brooks  replied: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  31,  1892. 
"Dear  Cooper, — It  is  good  to  see  your  blessed  handwriting. 


622  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"There  is  nothing  here  for  Mr. now.     The  only  vacancies 

are  a  few  little  country  missions,  generally  without  church  build- 
ings, where  the  salaries  are  very  small  and  the  prospects  of 

growth  are  of  the  slightest,  places  like . ,  and  that  sort  of 

thing.  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  indeed,  is  vacant,  but  I  do  not 
believe  he  would  like  that.  I  was  there  myself  for  a  while,  and 
know  what  a  queer  sort  of  place  it  is.     He  would  not  like  it. 

"  So  all  I  can  do  is  to  keep  my  eye  open  for  a  place  for  Mr. . 

Our  ministers  here  never  die,  and  seldom  resign,  so  that  no  man 
can  tell  what  chances  will  occur. 

"If  he  would  like  a  place  in  London  or  the  Tyrol,  perhaps  I 
could  serve  him  better,  for  I  am  going  there  this  summer." 

The  tone  of  his  letters  is  genial  and  cheerful  as  ever,  but  there 
were  moments  when  he  was  weary  to  exhaustion,  and  hardly 
seemed  like  himself.  He  suffered  from  the  effects  of  the  grippe. 
He  had  overtaxed  his  strength  in  fulfilling  episcopal  duties,  but 
made  no  effort  to  reduce  them,  going  everywhere  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  all  who  wanted  him.  That  he  was  worried  about  his 
health  might  be  inferred  from  the  circumstance  that  before  leav- 
ing home  he  caused  a  thorough  examination  of  his  house  to  be 
made.  Unfortunately  the  examination  failed  to  discover  the 
actual  situation.  The  report  sent  to  him  was  to  the  effect 
that  everything  was  in  proper  order.  He  sailed  in  the  steamer 
Majestic,  and  Captain  Purcell  gave  him  the  use  of  his  deck-room 
during  the  day.     On  board  the  steamer  he  writes : 

"The  Majestic  is  a  magnificent  great  thing,  and  could  put  our 
dear  little  Cephalonia  into  her  waistcoat  pocket.  Her  equip- 
ment is  sumptuous  and  her  speed  something  tremendous.  .  .  . 
Yesterday  [June  26]  we  had  service,  and  I  preached  in  the  great 
saloon  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening  I  held  a  service  for  the 
second-class  passengers,  of  whom  there  is  a  multitude.  ...  I 
should  not  have  been  disappointed  if  the  Majestic  could  not  have 
taken  me,  and  if  I  had  been  left  in  North  Andover,  as  I  ex- 
pected when  I  saw  you  last. 

"Yours  affectionately,  and  Majestically, 

<<  p  »» 

The  month  of  July  was  spent  in  London.  He  was  welcomed 
on  his  arrival  by  a  telegram  from  Lord  Aberdeen,  asking  for  a 
visit  at  Haddo  House  in  Scotland.  He  preached  in  the  Abbey 
as  usual,  and  at  St.  Margaret's;  "there  were  a  good  many  people 


IN  ENGLAND  623 

in  both  churches."  He  preached  also  for  Mr.  Haweis,  in  his 
church  at  Marylebone,  in  return,  as  he  said,  for  a  fine  sermon 
given  by  Mr.  Haweis  at  Trinity  years  before.  Other  invitations, 
and  they  were  many,  he  felt  obliged  to  decline,  with  the  exception 
of  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square. 

The  welcome  from  the  English  clergy  was  most  cordial: 
"  You  do  us  much  good  by  coming  and  preaching  in  England," 
writes  Rev.  J.  Llewelyn  Davies.  A  friend  writes  to  him,  speaking 
of  his  sermon  in  the  Abbey  on  July  3 :  "It  was  such  a  blessing  to 
hear  your  voice  once  more  in  that  glorious  place,  and  every  heart 
was  very  full  when  you  once  more  touched  on  the  high  thoughts 
and  aspirations  in  which  all  can  unite  when  recalling  the  birthday 
of  your  national  life.  Your  visits  to  England  are  among  the 
brightest  gifts  that  come  to  cheer  and  encourage  us."  Invita- 
tions ecclesiastical  and  social  were  numerous  and  attractive; 
dinners  and  lunches  filled  up  his  days.  He  went  to  Brighton 
to  review  under  the  best  guidance  the  scene  of  Robertson's  min- 
istry; to  Winchester,  in  order  that  he  might  get  the  best  impres- 
sion of  the  Saxon  metropolis.  A  few  days  were  given  to  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester  at  Farnham  Castle.  In  company  with  Archdeacon 
Farrar  he  made  a  visit  to  Lord  Tennyson,  whom  he  found 
"gentle,  gracious,  and  talkative."  That  he  greatly  enjoyed  his 
stay  in  London  is  evident,  but  he  was  not  as  well  as  he  should 
have  been.     Archdeacon  Farrar  perceived  some  change: 

"Every  one  noticed,  during  his  last  visit  to  England,  that  he 
looked  much  thinner  than  he  had  done  two  years  before,  but  he 
always  spoke  of  himself  as  perfectly  well,  and  his  great  boyish 
heart  seemed  as  full  as  ever  of  love  and  hope  and  joy.  I  noticed 
in  him  a  just  perceptible  deepening  of  gravity  in  tone,  but  no 
diminution  of  his  usually  bright  spirits.  ...  I  attributed  the 
slightly  less  buoyant  temperament  of  last  summer — the  sort  of 
half-sadness  which  sometimes  seemed  to  flit  over  his  mind  like 
the  shadow  of  a  summer  cloud — to  the  exigencies  and  responsi- 
bilities of  his  recent  dignity." 

Phillips  Brooks  sat  for  his  photograph  while  in  London.  In 
none  of  his  portraits  does  the  majesty  of  his  personal  appearance 
stand  forth  more  distinctly;  the  effect  of  illness  also;  there  is  now 
sternness  in  the  countenance,   the  inherited   Puritan  sadness. 

A  volume  of  his  sermons  had  been  published  in  England  with 


624  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  title  The  Spiritual  Man  and  Other  Sermons.  As  it  had  been 
published  without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  he  sent  to  the 
publishers  this  note  to  be  inserted  in  all  the  remaining  copies: 
"Bishop  Phillips  Brooks  requests  the  publishers  to  state  that 
the  contents  of  this  volume  are  printed  from  stenographic  reports, 
gathered  from  various  sources,  and  issued  without  his  know- 
ledge." The  book  has  a  singular  charm.  It  contains  sermons 
not  to  be  found  elsewhere,  those  which  had  most  strongly  touched 
the  popular  mind.  And  a  certain  pathos  unites  them  in  homo- 
geneousness  and  unity, — the  pathos,  as  it  were,  of  a  last  will  and 
testament. 

To  his  friend  the  bishop  of  Rhode  Island,  keeping  his  eightieth 
birthday,  he  wrote: 

"St.  Moritz,  Switzerland,  August  10,  1892. 

"Dear  Bishop  Clark, — When  a  man  can  write  a  letter  such 
as  this  of  yours,  to  tell  the  story  of  his  eightieth  birthday  past 
and  over,  he  is  indeed  snapping  his  venerable  fingers  in  the  face 
of  Time.  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  wholly  right,  and  that  you  will 
have  to  be  punished  for  it.  There  is  a  mossy  quietude  which 
people  associate  with  your  time  of  life,  and  whose  absence  they 
resent  if  it  does  not  appear.  If,  indeed,  you  are  eighty  after 
all,  and  it  is  not  a  mistake,  or  a  fraud.     Are  you  quite  sure? 

"  As  to  your  legs,  you  must  not  worry  yourself  about  them ;  they 
are  not  what  interests  your  friends.  It  is  not  your  walk,  but 
your  conversation,  that  we  value.  We  will  carry  you  in  our  arms 
so  that  your  feet  shall  not  touch  the  rough,  coarse  earth,  if  you 
will  only  stay  with  us,  and  brighten,  and  enlighten,  and  console, 
and  strengthen,  and  amuse  us.  You  will,  won't  you?  I  wish 
that  you  were  here  this  morning.  It  is  more  bright  and  splendid 
than  I  know  how  to  describe.  I  will  not  try,  but  your  ever 
young  imagination  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  I  will  tell  you 
by  and  by. 

"  Need  I  say  that  I  shall  rejoice  to  be  presented  in  the  queer  old 
House  by  you?  It  will  crown  your  deeds  and  kindnesses  in  all 
this  business. 

"Good  by.     God  bless  you.     Keep  well.     Be  good. 

"Your  grateful  friend, 

"P.  B." 

From  Chamouni  he  wrote  to  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar: 

Cham o on i,  August  27,  1892. 
"It  is  a  superb  day  here.     The  great  mountain  was  never 


CORRESPONDENCE  625 

clearer  nor  more  beautiful.  The  sky  is  cloudless,  and  the  snow 
reaches  up  to  heaven,  and  they  are  bringing  down  over  the 
tremendous  white  slope  the  dead  body  of  a  poor  fellow  who  died 
up  there  in  the  storm  day  before  yesterday.  You  can  see  them 
through  the  telescope  in  the  hotel  yard.  It  is  a  wonderful  funeral 
procession.  It  is  as  if  he  had  gone  up  there  to  despatch  his  soul 
to  heaven,  and  they  were  bringing  the  poor,  done-with  body 
down.     He  is  an  Oxford  man,  they  say,  named  Nettleship." 

On  Thursday,  September  8,  Phillips  Brooks  sailed  for  America. 
His  brother  John  Brooks  recalls  him,  on  that  day  in  the  Adelphi 
Hotel  at  Liverpool,  where  all  was  confusion  and  excitement 
around  him,  sitting  on  the  lower  steps  of  the  stairway,  with  his 
arms  resting  on  his  walking  stick  and  his  head  bowed  low,  re- 
maining in  that  position  for  an  hour  or  more,  paying  no  attention 
to  the  scene  before  him.  He  seemed  to  be  taking  his  leave  of 
the  Old  World,  as  if  he  knew  that  he  should  come  again  no  more. 
Among  the  letters  which  he  wrote  on  board  ship  is  one  to  Mr. 
Robert  Maconachie  in  India: 

"S.  S.  Pavonia,  September  10,   1892. 

"My  dear  Friend, — It  must  seem  to  you  as  if  I  never  had 
received  your  letter,  or  as  if  I  did  not  care  about  it.  The  truth 
is  that  I  did  receive  it,  and  that  I  did  care  about  it  a  great 
deal.  I  have  read  it  often,'  and  it  lies  before  me  now  as,  after 
all  these  months,  I  sit  down  on  the  steamship  which  is  carrying 
me  home,  to  send  you  a  word  of  greeting  and  most  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment of  your  remembrance. 

"I  never  forget  the  days  we  spent  together.  How  can  I? 
When  one  meets  a  fellow  man  and  finds  him  simply  and  devoutly 
interested  in  the  dear  Master  whom  one  loves  and  in  the  human 
creatures  for  whom  the  Master  lived  and  died,  there  is  no  possi- 
bility of  forgetting. 

"All  that  you  tell  me  of  yourself  and  of  the  work  which  has 
been  put  into  your  hands  is  of  the  deepest  interest  to  me.  I 
know  almost  nothing  of  what  the  details  of  your  daily  life  must 
be.  It  is  enough  that  you  are  where  your  duty  brings  you  into 
continual  and  intimate  association  with  men  and  all  their  myste- 
rious capacity.  That  cannot  be  without  the  Word  of  God  find- 
ing expression,  and  the  power  of  God  coming  into  influence 
through  you  on  them. 

"It  is  all  one  constant  Incarnation.  All  the  spiritual  mean- 
ings of  the  Gospel  and  the  Church  are  renewed  with  every  such 
active  love  and  power  of  a  Christian  soul.  The  accident  of  for- 
40 


626  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

mal  ordination  is  a  trifle.     '  As  my  Father  hath  sent  me,  so  send 
I  you,'  is  the  unmistakable  commission. 

"I  have  been  spending  a  summer  abroad,  much  of  it  in  your 
beautiful,  delightful  England.  Would  that  I  might  have  seen 
you  there!  I  should  not  again  have  driven  you  to  camp  out  in 
the  yard  while  I  took  possession  of  your  quarters,  as  I  did  in 
Delhi.  But  I  have  a  strong  feeling  that,  while  we  should  have 
begun  where  we  left  off  in  sympathy  and  friendship,  all  these 
years  which  have  come  since  would  have  opened  a  multitude  of 
new  subjects  of  thought  and  talk  which  would  not  easily  have 
been  exhausted. 

"The  new  work  which  has  fallen  to  me  as  Bishop  of  Massachu- 
setts is  all  in  the  old  lines  and  makes  me  more,  I  hope,  but  still 
the  same.  Certainly  it  makes  me  rejoice  more  than  ever  in  such 
words  as  yours.  May  the  time  come  when  I  shall  hear  them 
from  your  own  mouth !  I  hope  you  can  give  my  love  to  the  dear 
Delhi  men,  Lefroy  and  Allnut  and  Carlyon.  You  will  remember 
me  most  kindly  to  your  wife,  and  you  will  be  sure  that  I  always 
delight  to  hear  from  you. 

"God bless  you  bountifully. 

"Your  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

THE  HOUSE  IN  BOSTON 

A  pleasant  house  stands  in  a  Boston  street, 

With  wide-arched  entrance  opening  to  the  west; 

Of  all  earth's  houses  that  to  me  is  best. 
There  come  and  go  my  thoughts  with  restless  feet ; 
There  the  quick  years  like  hovering  clouds  have  passed, 

Catching  the  sunlight  on  their  calm  white  breasts; 

There  Duty  entered  with  her  grave  behests, 
And  there  the  shadow  of  my  sin  was  cast. 
Through  this  broad  door  my  friends  have  brought  their  love, 

Here  need  has  sought  what  help  I  could  bestow, 

Here  happy  study  finds  its  place  below, 
And  peaceful  slumber  fills  the  room  above. 
Down  these  wide  steps,  all  still  from  feet  to  head, 
I  shall  be  carried  after  I  am  dead. 

S.  S.  Pavonia,  September,  1872. 

Bishop  Brooks  reached  Boston  on  September  19.  A  cholera 
scare  during  the  summer  led  to  precautions  before  landing. 
When  the  tug  came  up  to  take  the  cabin  passengers,  Phillips 
Brooks  raised  his  hat  to  the  steerage  gathered  on  deck  to  watch 
the  departure,  and  bade  them  good-bye.  "  He  looked,"  said  one 
who  observed  him,  "the  picture  of  perfect  health,"  and  in  an- 
swer to  an  inquiry  replied  that  he  was  well.     That  undoubt- 


ST.  ANDREW'S  BROTHERHOOD    627 

edly  was  the  feeling  of  the  moment,  but  a  few  weeks  later  he  said 
that  he  was  no  better  than  when  he  went  away. 

After  his  return  he  resumed  his  work  with  great  vigor.  His 
time  was  filled  with  engagements.  Sunday,  October  2,  was 
hardly  an  exceptional  day,  when  four  times  he  spoke  from  the 
pulpit  of  Trinity  Church.  At  nine  o'clock  he  gave  the  anniver- 
sary sermon  before  the  St.  Andrew's  Brotherhood.  He  preached 
at  the  usual  morning  service  at  ten  o'clock,  and  again  in  the  after- 
noon before  the  congregation  of  Trinity  Church.  Then  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening  he  spoke  at  the  farewell  meeting  of  the 
Brotherhood.  The  church  was  filled  with  young  men  eager  to 
hear  the  great  preacher  at  both  the  services  when  he  addressed 
them. 

"He  spoke  with  all  the  old-time  brilliancy  and  power,  and 
never  was  more  impressive  than  in  his  parting  exhortation  in  the 
evening.  ...  In  the  early  morning  sermon,  as  he  drew  near  the 
close  of  his  sermon,  he  spoke  more  slowly  than  was  his  wont,  and 
his  voice  trembled  a  little  in  places  as  he  finished  his  glowing  and 
earnest  exhortation.  As  his  voice  sank,  deathly  stillness  fell  on 
the  church,  and  the  congregation  hung  on  the  last  words  as  if 
listening  to  a  celestial  messenger." 

At  the  evening  service,  when  he  said  farewell  to  the  young  men 
before  him,  these  were  some  of  his  words : 

"It  does  not  take  great  men  to  do  great  things,  it  only  takes 
consecrated  men.  The  earnest,  resolute  man,  whom  God  works 
through,  is  the  medium  by  which  His  greatest  work  is- often  done. 

"  Go,  then,  my  brethren,  to  your  blessed  work.  Be  absolutely 
simple.  Be  absolutely  genuine.  Never  say  to  any  one  what 
you  do  not  feel  and  believe  with  your  whole  heart.  Be  simple, 
be  consecrated,  and  above  all  things,  be  pure.  No  man  who  is 
not  himself  pure  can  carry  the  message  of  God. 

"And  never  dare  to  hurt  any  soul.  The  most  awful  conscious- 
ness a  man  can  have  is  that  he  has  hurt  a  human  soul  years  ago, 
and  now  has  no  power  to  repair  the  damage.  He  may  have  re- 
covered from  the  injury  to  his  own  being,  but  the  knowledge  that 
he  has  ever  injured  the  soul  of  another  man  or  woman,  who  has 
gone  out  of  his  sight  now,  so  that  he  cannot  know  how  serious 
the  injury  may  have  been,  is  a  terrible  thing  for  any  one  to 
know." 

From  the  anniversary  of  the  St.  Andrew's  Brotherhood  Bishop 


628  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

Brooks  went  to  Baltimore  to  remain  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
month  in  attendance  on  the  sessions  of  the  General  Convention, 
also  to  take  his  seat  for  the  first  time  in  the  House  of  Bishops. 
While  there  he  learned  that  Rev.  E.  W.  Donald  of  New  York 
had  accepted  a  call  to  the  rectorship  of  Trinity  Church.  He  was 
greatly  pleased,  for  Dr.  Donald  had  been  his  choice  from  the 
first,  and  he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  bring  about  his  election. 
Writing  from  the  House  of  Bishops,  he  speaks  of  Tennyson's 
death : 

"And  so  dear  old  Tennyson  is  gone!  Nobody  who  has  been 
writing  for  the  last  fifty  years  has  won  such  deep  affection  of  the 
best  men  and  influenced  so  many  lives.  What  days  they  were 
when  we  used  to  go  spouting  '  Locksley  Hall '  and  '  The  Two 
Voices'  to  the  winds!  And  what  has  not  'In  Memoriam'  been 
to  all  of  us !  If  I  had  never  seen  him,  it  would  make  me  sad  to 
know  that  he  was  no  longer  living  on  the  earth.  And  to  have 
seen  him  under  his  own  roof,  and  to  have  had  his  personal  kind- 
ness, will  always  seem  to  me  to  have  been  a  "great  and  precious 
privilege. 

"Nothing  is  yet  done  here.  I  am  quietly  settled  among  the 
bishops,  and  no  one  has  yet  slapped  my  face." 

Bishop  Brooks  spent  Sunday,  October  9,  in  Philadelphia, 
preaching  in  the  morning  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
from  the  text,  "Before  Abraham  was  I  am."  There  were 
some  few  of  his  sermons  at  this  time  in  which  he  concentrated 
the  essence  of  his  thought  and  experience,  and  this  was  one  of 
them, — the  eternal  consciousness  of  humanity  as  embodied  in 
Christ.  He  took  the  occasion,  also,  to  speak  of  the  death  of 
Tennyson,  quoting  the  lines  "Crossing  the  Bar."  In  the  evening 
of  the  same  day  he  preached  for  Mr.  Cooper  at  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Apostles,  and  then  he  took  the  same  text  on  which  he  had 
written  his  first  sermon  while  in  the  seminary  at  Alexandria, 
"The  Simplicity  that  is  in  Jesus."  Unwonted  impressiveness 
hung  about  both  these  services.  "But  he  looked  tired "  was  the 
comment  on  his  appearance. 

"Philadelphia,  October  9,  1892. 

"Dear  Arthur, — .  .  .  This  morning  I  go  back  to  the  House 
of  Bishops.  It  is  a  queer  place.  There  is  an  air  about  it  which 
comes  distinctly  from  their  seclusion.     They  ought  to  open  their 


GENERAL  CONVENTION  629 

doors.  They  have  a  lot  of  good  men  among  them,  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  good  work  done,  but  there  is  every  now  and  then  a 
silliness  which  would  not  be  possible  if  the  world  were  listening. 

"Ever  affectionately, 

"P." 

"House  of  Bishops,  Baltimore,  October  8,  1892. 

"Baltimore  is  a  very  pretty  city,  with  a  distinctly  Southern 
character,  and  no  end  of  colored  boys  and  girls  about  the  street. 
Everybody  has  been  very  hospitable;  plenty  of  terrapin  and 
crabs,  and  all  the  lower  luxuries  of  life.  We  meet  every  morning 
at  ten  o'clock  and  sit  till  one.  (It  wants  twenty  minutes  of  one 
now.)  Then  we  go  down  into  the  basement  and  have  a  luncheon; 
and  then  we  go  out  into  a  tent  in  the  yard  and  have  a  smoke. 
At  half  past  two  we  meet  again  and  sit  till  five.  At  six  we  are 
apt  to  have  an  invitation  to  dine  with  somebody.  If  nobody  has 
asked  us,  we  dine  at  the  Albion,  and  then  have  two  hours  of 
evening  sitting,  and  then  go  home  and  have  a  smoke  and  go  to 
bed.  And  then  we  do  the  same  thing  over  again  the  next  day. 
The  bishops  are  not  very  wise,  but  they  think  they  are,  and  they 
very  much  enjoy  being  bishops." 

In  the  discussions  in  the  House  of  Bishops  he  took  but  little 
part,  yet  that  little  was  significant.  He  opposed  a  proposition 
to  make  the  Sixty-ninth  Psalm  a  part  of  the  Evening  Prayer  on 
Good  Friday.  The  words  of  Christ  upon  the  cross,  "Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do,"  were  incompatible 
with  the  imprecation  of  the  psalm,  "Pour  out  thine  indignation 
upon  them;  and  let  thy  wrathful  displeasure  take  hold  of  them." 

The  one  event  during  Bishop  Brooks's  sojourn  in  Baltimore 
was  an  address  to  the  students  of  Johns  Hopkins  University. 
Many  invitations  he  had  received  to  address  its  students,  but 
for  some  good  reason  had  hitherto  been  prevented  from  accepting 
them.  When  he  was  now  invited,  he  wrote,  "I  find  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  say  Yes,  but  I  find  it  quite  impossible  to  say  No."  He 
wished  to  know  in  advance  what  kind  of  a  meeting  it  would  be 
proposed  to  hold.  So  many  persons  had  expressed  a  desire  to 
hear  him  that  a  neighboring  church  had  been  suggested  as  a 
suitable  place.  But  his  preference  was  "to  speak  to  the  students 
by  themselves,  in  one  of  their  own  halls,  at  an  hour  when  they 
are  wonted  to  come  together."  His  wishes  were  respected,  and 
but  few  were  present  except  members  of  the  University.     The 


63o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

time  was  Thursday,  the  13th  of  October,  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  From  the  account  written  at  the  time  these  other 
particulars  are  taken: 

"Many  who  were  present  found  the  scene  unusually  impressive. 
The  eager  attention  of  the  crowded  audience  of  students  and  pro- 
fessors; the  intense  earnestness  of  the  speaker,  expressing  itself 
in  an  utterance  even  more  rapid  and  impetuous  that  was  his 
wont;  the  peculiar  sympathy  with  students  which  was  so  charac- 
teristic of  Bishop  Brooks  (and  of  which  one  was  conscious  from 
his  first  word  to  his  last) ;  his  attitude  and  movements,  walking 
back  and  forth  behind  the  lecture  desk,  leaning  forward  over  it 
as  though  to  come  into  closer  relation  with  his  audience;  the 
gathering  darkness  of  the  autumn  afternoon, — all  was  singularly 
inspiring  and  affecting.  Three  gentlemen  among  the  older  per- 
sons in  the  audience,  who  happened  to  leave  the  room  in  com- 
pany, agreed  in  remarking  upon  a  certain  unearthliness  in  the 
address,  such  as  might  be  expected  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  had 
not  long  to  live." 

No  report  of  the  address  was  taken  at  the  time,  but  the 
students  jotted  down  sentences  which  struck  them,  and  when 
these  were  put  together,  some  idea  was  given  of  what  seemed 
like  farewell  words.     He  quoted  from  "The  Two  Voices." 

"  '  Tis  life,  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
O  life,  not  death,  for  which  we  pant; 
More  life,  and  fuller,  that  I  want. 

"The  great  question  underlying  all  the  controversies  between 
science  and  religion  is  whether  Christianity  proposes  to  restrain, 
prohibit,  destroy,  and  then  build  up  something  new  upon  the  old 
foundation;  or  whether  it  proposes  to  take  humanity  as  it  is,  and, 
by  opening  up  to  it  new  and  unthought-of  possibilities,  develop 
it  into  the  measure  of  the  fulness  of  Christ.  What,  then,  is 
Christianity?  It  is  not  something  added  to  us  from  without;  it 
is  not  a  foreign  element  in  our  souls;  the  Christian  is  not  some 
strange  creature,  but  a  man  developed  to  his  normal  condition. 

' '  Christianity  is  not  the  intruder,  but  sin.  Christianity  seeks 
not  to  cramp  man's  nature,  saying  to  him  constantly,  Thou  shalt 
not;  but  it  leads  on,  up  to  freer  air  and  wider  space,  wherein 
the  soul  may  disport  itself.  It  is  God  we  follow.  Obeying 
God  is  freedom.  Our  souls  are  like  closed  rooms,  and  God  is 
the  sunlight.  Every  new  way  we  find  in  which  to  obey  Him  we 
throw  open  a  shutter.  Our  souls  are  as  enclosed  bays,  and  God 
is  the  ocean.     The  only  barrier  that  can  hinder  free  communi- 


AN  IMPRESSIVE  ADDRESS         631 

cation  is  disobedience.  Remember  that  each  duty  performed  is 
the  breaking  down  of  a  reef  of  hindrance  between  our  souls  and 
God,  permitting  the  fulness  of  His  being  to  flow  in  upon  our 
souls.  And  so  we,  who  in  a  peculiar  sense  are  consecrated 
to  Truth,  are  better  students  because  we  are  Christians,  and  bet- 
ter Christians  because  we  are  students.  It  is  when  we  remem- 
ber the  greatness  of  the  nature  which  God  has  given  us  that  we 
come  into  a  full  understanding  of  our  relations  to  God.  At  some 
time  every  man  comes  to  realize  the  meaning  of  the  life  he  is 
living;  the  secret  sins  hidden  in  his  heart  rise  against  him. 
Then  we  would  hide  ourselves  from  God  if  we  could.  But  the 
only  way  to  run  from  God  is  to  run  to  Him.  The  Infinite  Know- 
ledge is  also  the  Infinite  Pity.  God  is  not  an  enemy  seeking 
to  catch  us  with  cunningly  devised  schemes,  but  our  sympa- 
thizer and  friend.  God  wants  to  save  us  if  we  will  let  Him.  '  I 
came  not  to  judge  the  world,  but  to  save  the  world.'  And  how 
shall  we  gain  nearness  to  God,  and  power?  We  never  become 
truly  spiritual  by  sitting  down  and  wishing  to  become  so.  You 
must  undertake  something  so  great  that  you  cannot  accomplish 
it  unaided.  Begin  doing  something  for  your  fellow-men,  and  if 
you  do  it  with  all  your  power,  it  will  almost  immediately  bring 
you  face  to  face  with  problems  you  cannot  solve;  you  need  God, 
and  you  go  to  God.  You  may  meet  difficulties  and  trials;  they 
call  for  no  less  devotion,  but  more.  Hindrances  are  like  the  ob- 
structions in  a  river's  bed.  Do  not  dam  up  the  flow,  but  turn 
on  a  fuller  flood  till  the  current  sweeps  away  the  rubbish  and 
runs  under  and  around  and. over  the  stones,  and  flows  smooth 
above  them.  Think  of  the  fulness.  'I  am  come  that  men 
might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more  abundantly.' 
So,  in  trying  to  win  a  man  to  a  better  life,  show  him,  not  the 
evil,  but  the  nobleness  of  his  nature.  Lead  him  to  enthusiastic 
contemplations  of  humanity  in  its  perfection,  and  when  he  asks, 
'Why,  if  this  is  so,  do  not  I  have  this  life?'  Then  project  on 
the  background  of  his  enthusiasm  his  own  life.  Say  to  him, 
1  Because  you  are  a  liar,  because  you  blind  your  soul  with  licen- 
tiousness.' Shame  is  born,  but  not  a  shame  of  despair.  It  is 
soon  changed  to  joy.  Christianity  becomes  an  opportunity,  a 
high  privilege,  the  means  of  attaining  to  the  most  exalted  ideal, 
— and  the  only  means.  Herein  mttst  lie  all  real  power;  herein, 
lay  Christ's  power,  that  He  appreciated  the  beauty  and  richness 
of  humanity,  that  it  is  very  near  the  Infinite,  very  near  to  God. 
These  two  facts — we  are  the  children  of  God,  and  God  is  our 
Father — make  us  look  very  differently  at  ourselves,  very  differ- 
ently at  our  neighbors,  very  differently  at  God.  We  should  be 
surprised,  not  at  our  good  deeds,  but  at  our  bad  ones.  We 
should  expect  good  as  more  likely  to  occur  than  evil;  we  should 
believe  that  our  best  moments  are  our  truest. 


632  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"There  are  three  conditions  of  human  nature:  first,  the  satis- 
faction of  utter  ignorance;  second,  the  conflict,  even  misery,  of 
the  first  stages  of  intelligence ;  third,  the  full  fruition  of  a  complete 
knowledge.  To  these  conditions  Christian  experience  is  parallel. 
Therefore,  when  you  encounter  doubt,  difficulties,  push  on;  they 
will  soon  issue  in  the  higher  and  more  perfect  understanding. 
Whatever  happens,  always  remember  the  mysterious  richness  of 
human  nature,  and  the  nearness  of  God  to  each  one  of  us." 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Episcopalian  Club  in  Boston,  October  31, 
to  welcome  the  delegates  to  the  General  Convention,  Bishop 
Brooks  was  present  and  spoke.  Referring  to  the  practice  of  the 
bishops  sitting  with  closed  doors,  he  said  it  was  un-American, 
and  sure  to  be  amended  some  day  or  other.  He  reviewed  the 
work  of  the  convention, — the  completion  of  the  revision  of  the 
Prayer  Book,  the  new  Hymnal,  the  increase  in  the  number  of 
the  missionary  bishops.  "One  thing  which  we  in  Massachusetts," 
he  humorously  remarked,  "are  especially  to  be  congratulated 
on,  is  that  every  proposition  offered  by  the  Massachusetts  dele- 
gates was  negatived  almost  without  a  division."  November 
opened  with  an  interesting  event,  the  formal  dedication  of  the 
Diocesan  House  on  Joy  Street.  He  had  selected  the  building, 
given  cheerfully  to  it,  and  had  offered  to  give  more  if  it  were 
needed.  He  wanted  it  made  attractive,  and  had  sent  many 
engravings  for  its  walls.  In  his  speech  at  the  dedication,  he 
expressed  the  hope  that  it  would  be  "a  place  of  friendly  meet- 
ings, the  cultivation  of  brotherly  friendship  and  good  will."  He 
referred  to  its  having  formerly  been  a  private  residence  and  as 
possessing  "a  homelike  atmosphere,  sanctified  by  all  the  sweet 
and  tender  relations  of  family  life." 

And  now  the  work  of  the  diocese  claimed  the  services  of  the 
bishop;  the  visitation  of  the  parishes  began;  every  day,  every 
hour  almost,  had  its  fixed  appointment.  Henceforth  there  was 
hardly  an  opportunity  for  rest.  It  had  been  hoped  that  the 
change  to  a  bishop's  life  would  call  for  physical  activity  which 
would  be  beneficial.  It  might  have  been,  but  the  pace  which 
Bishop  Brooks  had  set,  or  was  set  for  him,  was  too  rapid  for  any 
man  to  assume  with  impunity.  He  not  only  made  the  regular 
visitation  of  the  parishes,  but  he  was  asked  to  grace  with  his 
presence  and  his  words  occasions  of  parochial  interest  of  various 


A  CONFIRMATION  SERVICE        633 

kinds.     He  made  no  effort  to  spare  himself,  and  indeed  had  he 
done  so  escape  would  now  have  been  impossible. 

"We  all  know  [said  Bishop  Lawrence]  the  joy  with  which 
he  undertook  the  work,  and  the  undertone  of  joy  that  there  was 
in  it  to  the  end.  With  all  this,  the  physique  was  giving  way.  I 
am  confident  that,  if  he  had  had  full  strength  and  had  lived  a  few 
years  longer,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  keep  up 
the  pace.  When  a  man  is  doing  his  work  well,  responsibilities 
always  increase,  and  there  would  not  have  been  hours  enough  in 
the  day  for  him  to  get  through  what  he  had  to  do.  I  have  said, 
and  I  believe,  that  it  would  have  been  almost  impossible  for  him 
radically  to  change  his  methods  and  system.  It  was  part  of  his 
nature  to  see  everybody  who  wanted  to  see  him  and  to  help 
everybody  who  wanted  help.  Without  that  radical  change,  he 
must  have  gone  under  in  a  few  years,  as  he  did  at  the  end  of 
fifteen  months." 

Not  until  it  was  too  late  was  it  known  that  he  carried  a  burden 
of  his  own  creating  too  heavy  for  him,  or  any  man,  to  bear. 

"The  very  lavishness  of  his  giving  stimulated  unconscious 
extravagance  in  demanding,  so  that  all  this  community  and  all 
this  people  laid  their  claims  upon  him,  and  he  honored  them  till 
the  tension  grew  so  strong  that  at  last  the  strong  man  broke  and 
he  was  laid  low,  a  sacrifice  to  service,  his  life  as  truly  given  for 
his  fellow-men  as  any  life  that  was  ever  laid  on  the  altar  of  sac- 
rifice, from  the  day  of  Calvary  to  now." 

There  was  one  sermon  often  repeated  in  these  last  months,  on 
the  words,  "  I  follow  after  if  that  I  may  apprehend  that  for  which 
also  I  am  apprehended  of  Christ  Jesus."  Whatever  he  now  did 
seemed  to  be  great  and  solemn  beyond  expression.  The  inde- 
finable something  in  the  man  was  apparent  when  he  was  ad- 
ministering the  rite  of  confirmation,  even  in  some  small  and 
obscure  mission. 

"I  have  seen  the  ceremony  of  confirmation  hundreds  of  times, 
but  never  in  its  completeness  before.  ...  It  was  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  sight.  I  have  seen  great  sights  in  my  life.  I  have 
seen  all  England  welcoming  the  young  Danish  princess  to  her 
English  home;  the  return  of  the  guards  from  the  Crimea.  The 
great  heart  of  the  people  throbbed  on  these  occasions  as  I  have 
never  seen  it  since.  I  saw  Napoleon  and  Paris  welcome  the 
African  troops  on  their  return  from  the  desert  fields  of  battle; 


634  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

I  have  seen  Grant  and  Sherman  welcomed;  I  have  witnessed 
the  thrilling  effect  of  war  standards,  with  strips  of  the  national 
colors  still  clinging  to  them,  carried  in  the  streets  crowded  with 
people.  But  what  are  these  in  memory  compared  to  the  touch 
of  the  divine  I  witnessed  in  the  little  church  that  Sunday  evening, 
.  .  .  which  made  this  man  seem  something  more  than  human  in 
the  eyes  of  many!" 

He  was  lonely  in  these  days  and  hungered  for  human  com- 
panionship. People  who  would  gladly  have  gone  to  him  kept 
away  for  fear  they  would  intrude  on  his  time  or  interfere  with 
important  work.  To  a  friend  who  was  often  with  him  after  the 
day's  work  was  over,  he  said,  when  entreating  him  to  stay  longer, 
" I  need  you  more  than  any  one  else  can  need  you."  In  conver- 
sation he  talked  more  freely.  He  spoke  of  his  mother,  what  she 
was  and  what  she  had  been  to  him.  He  wished  that  he  might 
hear  again  the  sound  of  her  voice  speaking  to  him. 

To  Lady  Frances  Baillie  he  wrote : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  8,  1892. 

"Dear  Friend, — When  I  came  home  last  night  from  a  week's 
wandering  about  my  diocese,  I  found  a  letter  from  your  son 
Albert  on  my  table,  for  which  I  was  very  grateful.  It  told  me 
about  you,  and  almost  seemed  for  the  moment  to  set  me  in  your 
room  again  and  let  me  take  your  hand. 

"At  least  it  made  me  want  to  say,  even  across  the  stormy  ocean, 
how  much  I  am  thinking  about  you,  and  how  sorry  I  am  that  you 
are  weak  and  ill,  and  how  glad  I  am  that  you  are  yourself,  full  of 
the  faith  and  strength  of  God,  which  no  feebleness  of  body  can 
subdue. 

"  People  talk  about  how  sadness  and  happiness  pursue  and  giT/e 
place  to  one  another  all  through  our  lives.  The  real  truth  which 
we  grow  to  see  clearly  is  that  they  exist  at  the  same  time,  and  do 
not  contradict  each  other.  They  really  minister  to  one  another. 
Christ  was  the  saddest  and  happiest  man  that  ever  lived.  And 
so  am  I  thanking  God  for  you  while  I  am  praying  for  you  with 
all  my  heart. 

"  How  beautiful  the  death  at  Haslemere  has  been.  I  owe  it  to 
you  that  I  ever  had  the  privilege  of  seeing  Tennyson.  For  that, 
as  for  a  thousand  other  goodnesses,  I  can  never  thank  you.  But 
it  will  be  a  treasure  to  me  all  my  life.  And  what  has  he  not 
been  to  all  of  us  who  began  to  hear  him  sing  when  we  were  bovs ! 
And  what  must  life  mean  to  him  now  when  he  is  with  God! 

"Albert  tells  me  that  you  have  not  forgotten  about  the  picture 


CORRESPONDENCE  635 

and  that  he  wants  one  too.  Here  they  both  are,  and  I  wish  that 
he  would  send  me  his.  Yours  I  have  had  for  years  among  my 
treasures.     May  the  peace  of  God  be  with  you  always. 

"Your  sincere  friend, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 


The  following  letter  was  written  by  Phillips  Brooks  after 
reading  a  statement  of  the  religious  belief  of  a  young  man 
wishing  to  enter  the  ministry,  and  to  know  whether  in  the  bishop's 
opinion  he  were  eligible  for  the  sacred  office.  Without  the 
original  document  the  reply  may  not  be  in  every  respect  intel- 
ligible, but  its  general  meaning  is  clear. 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  10,  1892. 

"My  dear  Mr.  C ,  I  have,  read  your  friend's  paper  with 

much  interest.  It  is  very  strange  how  men's  thoughts  at  any 
one  time  run  in  the  same  direction,  are  perplexed  by  the  same 
difficulties,  and  tend  to  the  same  results. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  much  your  friend  has  read  of  certain  recent 
writings  which  discuss  the  relation  between  the  formal  and  essen- 
tial, the  historical  and  spiritual  in  the  Christian  faith.  But  evi- 
dently the  necessity  for  some  adjustment  and  proportion  between 
the  two  has  pressed  upon  his  mind  as  it  has  pressed  upon  so  many 
others.  The  unquestioning  acceptance  of  all  that  is  written  con- 
cerning the  historical  Christ  and  the  almost  exclusive  value  set 
upon  the  facts  of  His  earthly  life  have  given  way  to  a  larger  esti- 
mate of  what  He  eternally  is,  and  of  the  spiritual  meaning  which 
the  recorded  facts  enshrine. 

"That  the  value  of  the  historic  fact  may  be  depreciated,  as  it 

has  in  some  other  days  been  exaggerated,  there  can  be  no  doubt ; 

/but  that  the  disposition  which  your  friend  exhibits,  to  seek  and 

dwell  upon  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the  redeeming  life,  is  good 

and  true,  I  also  thoroughly  believe. 

"As  to  his  right  to  be  a  Christian  minister  I  cannot  hesitate. 
Our  Church  puts  into  the  hands  of  her  ministers  the  Apostles' 
and  the  Nicene  Creeds,  and  asks  them  to  repeat  these  symbols 
with  the  people.  Of  course  there  are  various  interpretations  of 
many  of  the  articles.  But  he  who  says  them  in  good  faith  as  an 
expression  of  his  own  religious  thinking  and  believing  has  an 
unquestioned  right  within  our  ministry.  Is  not  the  same  thing 
true  substantially  of  yours,  and  would  not  your  friend  thus 
find  that  he  really  belongs  where  he  very  much  wants 
to  be? 

"I  must  rejoice  with  him  and  for  him  in  the  spiritual  earnest- 


636  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

ness  which  is  evidently  his.     That  is  the  great  thing  after  all. 
He  has  life,  which  is  what  Christ  came  that  we  might  have. 
"Will  you  assure  him  of  my  heartiest  good  wishes? 
"And  will  you  believe  me, 

"Yours  most  sincerely, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

He  preached  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  November  24,  at  Trin- 
ity Church.  His  text  was  "God  saw  everything  that  He  had 
made,  and,  behold,  it  was  very  good."  Again  his  subject  was 
"Optimism."  He  denned  it:  "It  is  not  merely  a  matter  of 
temperament,  nor  does  it  mean  that  this  is  a  thoroughly  good 
world  in  which  we  live,  nor  is  it  simply  a  careless  passing  over 
of  the  evils  of  life,  nor  is  it  a  way  of  seeing  how  everything  is 
going  to  come  out  for  good.  But  it  is  a  great  belief  in  a  great 
purpose,  underlying  the  world  for  good,  absolutely  certain  to 
fulfil  itself  somewhere,  somehow.  That  must  have  been  what 
God  saw  when  He  looked  upon  the  world  and  called  it  good." 

To  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell  he  wrote  expressing  his  opinion  of  cur- 
rent poetic  efforts : 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  10, 1892. 

"The  verses  are  certainly  fine.  Some  of  them  are  exquisite 
and  delightful.  Of  course  they  are  fantastic  and  unhealthy — 
everybody  is  that,  nowadays — and  they  are  affected,  and  haunted 
always  by  recollections  of  somebody  else's  poetry,  and  wilfully 
and  unnecessarily  obscure,  and  awfully  afraid  of  being  common- 
place. Sometime  somebody  will  just  dare  to  sing  the  first  great 
simple  things  as  all  the  great  poets  have  sung  them,  and  then, 
how  the  world  will  listen!  and,  instead  of  a  few  distorted  con- 
noisseurs of  poetry  like  you  and  me  praising  it  to  one  another, 
all  men  will  be  delighting  in  it  as  they  delight  in  nobody  to-day." 

He  went,  on  the  21st  of  December,  to  the  dinner  of  the  New 
England  Society  in  Brooklyn,  and  made  a  speech,  characteristic 
of  him  in  every  respect,  noting  with  kindly  satire  their  faults,  yet 
praising  greatly  New  England  and  the  Puritans.  He  stayed 
with  his  brother  while  in  New  York,  and  in  a  letter  describing 
Christmas  Day  he  says :  "We  played  childish  games  till  midnight, 
and  it  was  all  very  simple,  and  silly,  and  delightful."  There 
were  things  which  tried  him  greatly  at  this  time,  but  he  dismissed 
them  on  principle :  "  On  Christmas  Day  one  must  be  glad."    That 


CORRESPONDENCE  637 

his  thoughts  were  dwelling  on  Tennyson  is  evident  from  this 
letter  to  Lady  Frances  Baillie: 

"233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  30,  1892. 

"Dear  Lady  Frances, — The  etching  has  arrived,  after  what 
I  doubt  not  was  a  stormy  and  distressing  experience  on  the  Atlan- 
tic, for  it  seems  as  if  the  great  ocean  never  had  been  so  restless 
and  uneasy-minded  as  in  these  last  few  weeks.  But  it  has  come, 
and  brings  its  blessing  to  the  end  of  the  departing  year.  Surely 
the  most  touching  and  sacred  thing  to  many  of  us  during  the 
year  which  goes  out  to-morrow  will  be  that  it  opened  the  grave 
for  Tennyson,  and  one  of  the  first  thoughts  about  1893  as  we  bid 
it  welcome  will  be  that  in  it  we  shall  not  hear  his  voice. 

"This  picture  of  his  grave  is  very  good  to  have,  especially  from 
your  kind  hands.  I  do  not  think  that  my  friends'  graves  mean 
very  much  to  me.  I  do  not  find  myself  often  going  to  them.  I 
should  not  mind  it  if  I  did  not  know  where  my  friend  was  buried, 
if  only  I  knew  that  no  dishonor  had  been  done  to  his  body.  Death 
is  so  great  and  splendid,  the  wonderful  emancipation  which  must 
come  to  the  spirit  is  so  exalting  and  inspiring,  that  it  carries  one's 
thoughts  away  from  the  body  after  we  have  once  done  to  it  the 
affectionate  reverence  which  everything  which  has  belonged  to 
our  friend  suggests  to  us. 

"It  is  only  when  a  life  has  been  monumental,  like  the  great 
poet's,  and  his  memory  is  part  of  the  life  of  the  earth,  which  he 
has  richened,  that  his  grave  becomes  a  treasure  for  mankind.  I 
am  glad  his  body  lies  in  the  Abbey.  The  dear  old  place  seems 
even  dearer  from  this  new  association. 

"And  every  token  of  your  kind  remembrance  is  very  precious 
to  me,  as  I  am  sure  you  know. 

"And  when  you  turn  the  page  of  the  New  Year,  may  you  find 
some  message  of  strength  and  good  cheer  written  on  the  other 
side.  You  surely  will,  whether  it  be  of  sickness  or  of  health. 
How  one  grows  almost  afraid  to  choose,  or  at  least  thankful  that 
he  has  not  to  decide!  The  great  simple  truths,  that  God  lives, 
that  God  loves,  that  Christ  is  our  salvation,  grow  greater  and 
simpler  and  dearer  every  year.  May  they  flood  this  New  Year 
with  their  light  for  you. 

"I  wish  that  I  could  see  you.     You  will  know,  I  am  sure,  that 
my  thought  and  prayer  are  with  you,  and  that  I  am  always, 
"Yours  most  affectionately, 

"Phillips  Brooks." 

Among  the  last  things  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  in  his  note-book 
is  the  following : 


638  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

"the  future  life. 

"  How  far  we  may  get  at  a  real  conception  of  its  essential  na- 
ture by  carefully  observing  the  most  spiritual  moments  of  this 
life,  in  such  particulars,  for  instance,  as  the  following: 

"i.  Relation  to  the  bodily  life,  preserving  it,  but  keeping  it 
subordinate  and  servile. 

"2.  Relation  to  our  friends,  getting  at  their  true  spiritual 
essence,  not  minding,  i.  e.,  keeping  in  mind,  their  circumstances, 
poverty,  wealth,  etc. 

"3.  Relation  to  God — true  worship.  Communion  more  than 
petition. 

"4.  Relation  to  time.  Essential  timelessness,  free  drawing 
upon  past  and  future. 

"5.  Relation  to  ourselves.  Consciousness  of  our  deepest 
ideality.  Fullest  companionship  with  others,  and  proportion- 
ately deep  sense  of  self. 

"All  these  things  we  know  in  the  highest  moments  of  our  lives; 
shall  they  not,  clothed  in  fit  scenery,  make  our  Heaven?" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
1893. 

CONCLUSION. 

Watch-night  was  kept  as  usual  at  Trinity  Church  and  the  new 
year  was  ushered  in  by  a  fervent  prayer  from  Phillips  Brooks. 
Then  rising  and  addressing  the  great  congregation,  he  added:  "I 
wish  you  all  a  Happy,  a  very  Happy  New  Year."  A  lady  who 
called  upon  him  in  his  study  during  the  day  found  him  in  depres- 
sion, but  rousing  himself,  he  said:  "It  must  be,  it  shall  be,  a 
happy  new  year."  On  the  Sunday  morning  with  which  the  new 
year  opened  he  was  at  the  Old  North  Church  on  Salem  Street. 
He  ate  his  New  Year's  dinner  with  the  members  of  the  Christian 
Union,  as  had  been  his  custom  for  twenty  years,  and  spoke  to  the 
young  men  as  he  had  spoken  during  all  those  years. 

"New  Year  comes  to  us  with  the  presentation  of  the  great 
things  of  life.  Greatness  and  littleness  are  terms  not  of  the 
quantity,  but  of  the  quality,  of  human  life.  If  a  man  has  a  great 
conception  of  life,  and  is  putting  all  of  the  little  things  which  he 
is  doing  into  that  conception,  he  is  a  great  man.  There  always  is 
some  great  conception  which  makes  for  a  man  the  interpretation 
of  his  life. 

"Everything  craves  for  manifestation.  I  believe  that  when 
Jesus  Christ  came  and  touched  the  earth,  the  earth  had  some 
response  to  make,  which  it  does  not  make  to  you  and  me.  Even 
now,  Nature  is  saying  something  which  she  did  not  say  to  men 
that  groped  about  five  centuries  ago.  She  says  it  in  the  lights 
which  burn  in  our  hall  and  in  the  cars  that  run  by  the  door. 

"  The  biggest  truth  that  man  knows  is  the  most  practical  truth. 
Mankind  only  progresses  as  it  progresses  with  the  development 
of  man's  own  personal  character.  Increased  skill  will  come 
with  increased  goodness.  Man  is  what  man  expects  himself  to  be. 
Look  at  yourself  and  say,  'Am  I  a  child  of  God?'  Do  that 
under  any  circumstances,  and  the  circumstances  immediately  be- 
come sublime. 

"  Character,  and  character  only  is  the  thing  that  is  eternally 

639 


64o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

powerful  in  this  world.  Character  is  the  divinest  thing  on  earth. 
It  is  the  one  thing  that  you  can  put  into  the  shop  or  into  the 
study  and  be  sure  that  the  fire  is  going  to  burn.  Character  now, 
and  character  forever!" 

On  Monday  evening,  January  2,  he  was  at  the  Clericus  Club 
for  the  last  time.  He  began  the  next  day  the  visitation  of  the 
churches  in  accordance  with  a  list  made  out  for  six  months  in 
advance.  Tuesday,  January  3,  he  was  at  Wakefield;  Wednesday, 
January  4,  at  Middleborough ;  Thursday,  January  5,  at  Fram- 
ingham;  Friday,  January  6,  at  Watertown;  Sunday,  January  8, 
he  visited  the  three  churches  in  Dorchester;  Tuesday,  January  10, 
he  was  at  Belmont;  Thursday,  January  12,  at  Wellesley;  Friday, 
January  13,  at  Canton.  Minor  appointments,  commiteee  meet- 
ings, etc.,  filled  up  the  intervening  time. 

Into  one  event  he  entered  with  the  zest  of  youthful  happiness, 
— a  reception  at  his  residence  on  January  11,  in  honor  of  Miss 
Gertrude  Brooks,  when  for  the  first  time  he  threw  open  his 
house.  It  had  been  a  promise  made  long  before  that  such  a 
reception  should  be  given  when  the  time  came.  He  shared 
in  the  anticipation  of  the  event  and  still  more  in  its  fulfilment; 
and  as  he  stood  by  the  side  of  his  niece  to  receive  the  guests, 
with  the  sense  of  joy  in  kinship  and  proprietorship  in  her  glad- 
ness, he  seemed  to  be  in  the  happiest,  even  the  gayest  of  moods. 

On  Saturday  morning,  January  14,  he  preached  at  the  con- 
secration of  St.  Mary's  Church  for  Sailors,  East  Boston.  A 
window  was  open  in  the  roof,  which  could  not  be  shut,  and  the 
cold  winter  air  blew  on  the  heads  of  those  present.  Coming  back 
on  the  ferry,  he  complained  of  feeling  cold. 

On  Sunday  he  should  have  kept  at  home,  for  he  was  ill;  but 
he  went  to  Hyde  Park,  officiating  there  in  the  morning,  and 
then  in  an  open  sleigh  he  drove  to  Dedham.  A  lady  who  was 
present  has  furnished  an  account  of  the  morning  of  that  day : 

"The  little  church  in  Hyde  Park  was  crowded  with  people. 
His  subject  was  'Life.'  'Thou  shalt  satisfy  the  king  with 
long  life.'  'Life  forever  and  ever'  was  the  burden.  He  read 
the  words  from  Saul, 

"  '  How  good  is  man's  life!     The  mere  living 

How  fit  to  employ- 
All  the  heart  and  the  soul  and  the  senses 

Forever  in  joy! ' 


THE  LAST  DAYS  641 

"And  even  as  he  spoke,  with  Life  upon  his  lips,  I  saw  written 
plainly  upon  his  face  that  other  word,  Death.  I  grew  numb  and 
faint,  and  thought  that  I  would  have  to  leave  the  church. 

"After  the  confirmation  he  stayed  and  stayed.  I  have  never 
seen  him  happier  or  gentler,  never  more  childlike  and  lovable 
than  he  was  that  Sunday  morning.  He  addressed  the  Sunday- 
school.  When  that  was  done  he  went  aboat  among  the  children. 
Women  brought  him  their  babies  and  their  boys  that  he  might 
look  into  their  faces.  He  had  a  word  for  every  one.  When  he 
sat  down,  a  group  of  boys  circled  around  him.  One  boy  back  of 
him  noticed  a  speck  upon  his  coat  and  went  to  brush  it  off.  In 
a  moment  there  were  three  boys  brushing  him  altogether.  He 
looked  about  and  colored,  his  modesty  overcome  at  being  the 
object  of  so  much  attention.  .  .  .  He  continued  to  talk  with 
the  children.  It  seemed  even  then  that  he  was  already  enter- 
ing God's  kingdom  as  a  little  child. 

"And  still  he  did  not  go.  He  did  not  seem  to  want  to  go.  Long 
after  he  had  gone  I  stood  in  the  church.  Only  a  few  were  left. 
An  old  woman  came  to  me  and  began  talking.  I  had  never 
seen  her  before,  but  she  seemed  to  know  me  somehow,  and  began 
to  talk  about  him.  She  remembered  him  as  a  boy,  and  began 
to  tell  about  the  old  days  at  St.  Paul's  when  the  Brooks  boys, 
as  she  said,  used  to  spill  over  into  another  pew.  I  let  her  talk 
on  and  on.  In  the  middle  of  it  I  looked  up, — and  there  he  was! 
Back  again!  I  wondered  what  brought  him.  I  was  startled 
and  could  not  speak.  He  looked  at  us  a  second  and  then  he  said, 
'  Good-bye,'  and  the  smile  that  grew  upon  his  face,  the  bright  look 
in  the  eyes,  I  shall  never  forget.  I  did  not  say  good-bye, — I 
could  not.  He  looked  so  happy  that  I  was  glad  too,  and  yet 
there  was  a  sadness  mingled  with  it  deeper  than  words  could  say." 

The  next  day,  Monday,  January  16,  was  apparently  an  off 
day,  when  he  rested  in  his  study,  where  callers  found  him : 

"He  came  forth  as  usual  with  his  arms  extended  in  greeting 
in  the  old  familiar  way,  but  he  was  changed.  During  the  hour 
which  followed  he  was  restless,  walking  the  room,  talking  in- 
cessantly; it  was  hardly  possible,  so  rapid  and  continuous  was 
the  talk,  to  put  a  question  without  interrupting  him.  When 
he  was  asked  if  he  found  any  difficulty  in  conversation  in  making 
his  episcopal  visits,  he  said,  'Oh  no;  you  only  pull  the  spigot, 
and  it  comes.'  He  was  full  of  reminiscences;  referring  to  his 
early  years  and  the  absurd  way  he  then  had  of  selecting  texts 
which  no  one  had  heard  of.  He  spoke  of  one  sermon  which  he 
got  by  asking  a  clerical  brother  what  text- he  was  going  to  preach 
on.     The  text  was  so  striking  that  only  one  sermon  could  be 


642  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

preached  from  it,  and  as  he  wrote  on  the  text  at  once  he  made 
it  impossible  for  the  original  suggester  to  use  it.  He  talked  of 
"Watson's  poems  then  just  out,  which  he  admired,  especially  the 
lines  on  Tennyson.  Then  he  turned  to  the  New  England  dinner, 
commenting  on  the  difference  between  New  York  and  Boston, 
how  the  exaggerated  estimate  of  money  was  affecting  even  the 
clergy  in  New  York.  He  told  an  incident  of  the  New  England 
dinner:  A  gentleman  who  sat  beside  him  complained  that  he 
could  not  enjoy  the  dinner  because  of  the  speech  he  had  to  make. 
'That,'  said  Phillips  Brooks,  'is  also  my  trouble.'  'Why,'  said 
the  gentleman,  'I  did  not  suppose  you  ever  gave  a  thought  to 
any  speech  you  had  to  make.'  'And  is  that  your  impression  of 
the  way  in  which  I  have  done  all  my  work?'  'It  is,'  said  the 
gentleman;  'I  have  thought  it  was  all  spontaneous,  costing  you 
no  effort  of  preparation.'  The  interview  closed  with  his  agree- 
ment to  preach  the  sermon  at  West  Point  at  the  Commencement 
in  the  ensuing  June." 

The  following  narrative  by  Mr.  William  G.  Brooks  takes  up  the 
story  and  carries  it  to  the  end : 

"On  Tuesday,  January  17,  1893,  in  the  evening,  Bishop  Brooks 
made  a  visitation  to  the  Church  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  in  Boston 
— his  last  visitation.  I  saw  the  notice  in  the  evening  paper,  and 
went  to  hear  him.  He  had  a  written  sermon  ready,  but  the  pul- 
pit desk  was  low  and  his  glasses  troubled  him,  and  he  laid  it  aside 
and  preached  an  extemporaneous  sermon  on  Christ  feeding  the 
multitude  in  the  desert.  He  had  a  severe  cold  and  was  troubled 
with  his  throat.  I  went  home  with  him  and  sat  and  talked  till 
eleven  o'clock.  He  was  in  good  spirits  and  bright  and  interesting 
and  spoke  lightly  of  the  soreness  in  his  throat.  When  I  bade 
him  good-night  he  said  he  would  come  in  and  spend  an  evening 
with  us  soon. 

"The  next  day,  Wednesday,  January  18,  he  walked  out,  and 
in  the  evening  went  to  Newton  to  a  choir  festival  and  a  dinner 
at  the  Woodland  Park  Hotel.  There  he  made  his  last  speech, 
with  great  difficulty  on  account  of  his  throat.  He  was  driven  in 
a  close  carriage  to  the  station  in  Newton,  and  also  from  the  Hunt- 
ington Avenue  station  in  Boston  to  his  home.  During  the  night 
his  throat  grew  worse,  and  in  the  morning  was  very  much  swol- 
len. He  sent  for  Dr.  Beach,  who  told  him  he  must  keep  his  bed 
to  prevent  moie  cold  and  avoid  a  chill,  but  that  he  had  only  an 
4 old-fashioned  sore  throat.' 

"I  saw  him  in  the  evening.  Dr.  Beach  was  there,  who  stated 
the  case  the  same  as  he  did  in  the  morning.  He  gave  him  a 
gargle  and  a  Dover's  powder  to  sleep  on.     But  he  had  a  poor 


THE  LAST  DAYS  643 

night,  and  was  very  restless  in  the  morning.  I  saw  him  in  the 
morning,  afternoon,  and  evening.  This  I  did  each  of  the  days  he 
was  sick,  and  Mrs.  Brooks  and  Gertrude  saw  him  each  forenoon. 
Dr.  Beach  each  day  told  me  of  his  condition,  and  constantly 
spoke  favorably  and  hopefully  of  it.  He  objected  to  a  nurse, 
though  the  doctor  suggested  it,  and,  as  the  servants  knew  his 
wishes  and  could  prepare  what  he  needed,  there  seemed  to  be  no 
occasion  for  one. 

"His  throat  was  so  swollen  that  he  could  say  but  little,  and 
could  take  only  liquid  food.  He  read  his  letters  and  papers  and 
dictated  some  of  his  correspondence. 

"So  it  went  on  till  Sunday,  when  he  did  not  appear  so  well. 
He  seemed  to  be  weaker  and  slept  more.  Still  Dr.  Beach  said 
there  was  no  cause  for  alarm.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening 
he  saw  him  and  sent  me  word  that  he  looked  for  a  good  night, 
and  he  hoped  to  find  him  better  in  the  morning.  So  we  went  to 
bed  feeling  easy  and  hoping  for  good  results. 

"But  about  one  o'clock  one  of  his  servants  came  to  our  house 
and  said  he  was  not  so  well.  It  appears  that  he  woke  from  a 
light  sleep  about  eleven  o'clock,  a  little  weak  in  his  head,  and 
went  out  of  his  room  and  up  the  stairs  a  few  steps,  when  the  ser- 
vants heard  him  and  gently  took  him  to  his  room  and  bed  again. 
He  seemed  to  imagine  he  was  in  a  strange  house,  perhaps  on  an 
episcopal  visitation,  and  said  he  was  '  going  home.' 

"Dr.  Beach  was  sent  for  and  came  at  once.  He  sent  for  me 
and  also  for  Dr.  Fitz.  I  was  at  the  house  before  Dr.  Fitz,  and 
Dr.  Beach  sent  me  at  once  to  the  Registry  of  Nurses  for  a  nurse. 
I  got  a  man  who  was  there  in  an  hour  or  so,  and  on  my  return  I 
found  Dr.  Fitz  at  the  house. 

"The  doctors  had  just  examined  his  lungs.  They  found  them 
sound  and  said  they  found  nothing  that  was  dangerous.  It  seems 
they  suspected  there  might  be  a  diphtheritic  trouble  below  the 
throat  swelling,  and  had  arranged  to  make  an  examination 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  possibly  Dr.  Knight  also 
present. 

"While  the  doctors  were  consulting  together  after  their  exam- 
ination in  the  hall  in  the  second  story,  I  was  alone  with  Phillips. 
He  knew  me.  He  looked  up  from  his  pillow  with  the  sweetest 
smile  and  held  out  his  hand.  He  pressed  mine  warmly  and 
strongly,  smiled  again  and  again,  and  once  or  twice  said,  '  Good- 
night.' Then  he  lay  back  on  his  pillow,  put  his  great  left  hand 
on  his  heart,  and  smiled  and  nodded  his  head  with  his  eyes  full 
on  mine.  Then  he  raised  his  right  hand  with  the  forefinger  ex- 
tended, and  waved  it  round  and  round  for  several  moments,  as 
he  used  to  do  when  hearing  music,  or  humming  some  tune  himself. 
It  was  all  clear  and  bright  and  happy,  full  of  the  joy  that  was 
in  his  heart,  in  harmony  with  the  love  that  filled  it  and  with 


644  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

the  heavenly  melodies  that  he  heard  calling  him  to  his  eternal 
home,  full  of  rest  and  life.     This  was  about  three  o'clock. 

"These  were  his  last  clear  moments.  After  it  he  slept  lightly, 
taking  nourishment  from  time  to  time,  and  restless  and  uncom- 
fortable when  awake. 

"About  six  o'clock  he  rose  and  insisted  on  getting  out  of  bed, 
and  as  he  was  very  decided,  Dr.  Beach  said,  as  the  room  was 
warm,  he  might  be  wrapped  in  blankets  and  sit  in  a  chair  a  little 
while.  The  doctor  and  the  nurse  covered  him,  and  he  stepped 
between  them  towards  the  door  that  opened  into  the  hall  as  if  he 
wished  to  go  out  of  the  room.  Dr.  Beach  restrained  him,  saying 
a  few  words,  when  he  said  quite  impatiently,  '  Both  you  men  can- 
not keep  me  from  going  through  that  door.'  His  attention  was, 
however,  diverted,  and  he  was  led  to  a  large  rocking-chair  in  the 
room,  into  which  he  was  seated,  the  nurse  in  a  chair  by  his  side, 
and  Dr.  Beach  and  I  in  chairs  near  by. 

"In  a  few  moments  the  nurse  called  Dr.  Beach,  who  went  at 
once.  His  head  had  drooped,  and  he  was  breathing  hard.  We 
lifted  him  upon  the  bed.  He  still  breathed,  and  Dr.  Beach  at 
once  injected  a  strong  dose  of  brandy  into  his  arm.  But  it  had 
no  effect,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes  the  breathing  grew  fainter 
and  then  stopped.     He  had  gone." 


The  funeral  services  for  Phillips  Brooks  were  held  at  Trinity 
Church  on  Thursday,  January  26.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing of  that  day  the  body,  accompanied  by  a  guard  of  members 
of  the  Loyal  Legion,  was  borne  to  the  church  and  placed  in  the 
vestibule,  where  it  was  viewed  by  a  continuous  procession  of 
all  classes  of  people,  numbering  many  thousands,  and  there  were 
thousands  still  waiting  for  the  privilege  when  the  hour  of  ser- 
vice, eleven  o'clock,  arrived.  In  the  city  were  the  evidences  of 
mourning.  The  traffic  seemed  to  cease  in  the  streets,  the  Stock 
Exchange  and  places  of  business  were  closed,  the  flags  were  at 
half-mast.  Within  the  church  the  scene  resembled  the  day  of 
his  consecration  to  the  episcopate.  The  governor  of  the  Com- 
monwealth of  Massachusetts,  the  mayor  of  the  city  of  Boston, 
and  a  delegation  from  the  Legislature  were  there;  representatives 
of  many  societies  also,  and  of  the  congregation  of  Trinity  Church ; 
and  many  clergymen  of  other  denominations.  The  white-robed 
procession  of  the  clergy  of  the  diocese  and  of  visiting  clergy  in 
large  numbers  met  the  body  at  the  west  door  of  the  church  and 
passed  up  the  aisle.     The  presiding  bishop  of  the  Episcopal 


THE  FUNERAL  645 

Church,  Dr.  Williams,  who  read  the  sentences,  was  followed  by 
the  bishops  of  Rhode  Island,  New  York,  Western  Virginia,  New 
Hampshire,  Maine,  and  Central  Pennsylvania.  Eight  Harvard 
students  bore  the  body  aloft  on  their  shoulders.  Among  the 
honorary  pall-bearers  were  the  friends  of  many  years.  Bishop 
Potter  stood  at  the  lecturn  to  read  the  lesson.  Bishop  Clark  led 
in  the  recital  of  the  Nicene  Creed.  The  hymns  were  "Jesus, 
lover  of  my  soul,"  and  "For  all  the  saints  who  from  their  labors 
rest." 

When  the  service  was  over  within  the  church,  another  service 
was  held  without,  for  the  larger  congregation  waiting  in  Copley 
Square, — some  said  ten  thousand,  others  twenty  thousand,  but 
no  one  knew, — a  vast  concourse  of  people  under  the  open  heaven. 
The  body  was  borne  from  the  church  as  it  had  been  carried  in, 
on  the  shoulders  of  Harvard  students,  placed  upon  a  catafalque 
in  sight  of  the  multitude,  when  prayers  were  said  and  the  hymn 
was  sung,  "O  God,  our  help  in  ages  past."  Then  the  long  pro- 
cession moved.  When  it  reached  Harvard  Square  at  two  o'clock, 
the  familiar  college  bell  began  to  toll,  announcing  that  the  pro- 
cession was  entering  the  college  grounds.  "In  a  marvellously 
short  time  the  steps  of  University  and  Harvard  halls  were 
crowded ;  men  poured  from  the  dormitories  and  recitation  halls 
in  the  quadrangle,  and  lined  up  two  or  three  deep  on  both  sides 
of  the  driveway  from  University  to  the  entrance  gate  between 
Harvard  and  Massachusetts.  There,  with  bared  heads,  they 
stood  in  silence  while  the  carriages  passed  one  by  one  out  of  the 
yard."  Then  they  disappeared  as  silently  and  as  quickly  as  they 
had  gathered,  while  the  procession  moved  on  to  Mount  Auburn 
to  meet  another  large  assemblage  of  people  about  the  open  grave. 
Here  the  committal  was  said  by  Rev.  John  C.  Brooks,  and  the 
prayers  by  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks,  who  gave  the  benediction.  So 
the  body  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  laid  to  rest,  in  the  same  lot  with 
the  father  and  mother  and  the  two  brothers,  George  and  Fred- 
erick.    And  the  people  went  away  again  to  their  own  homes. 

When  the  awful  intelligence  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  dead 
first  fell  upon  the  city  of  Boston  and  the  country  at  large,  it  came 
with  "the  crushing  and  stunning  effect  of  unspeakable  calamity," 
— a  sorrow  which  at  first  could  find  no  words.  When  the  silence 
was  broken  and  utterance  began,  it  seemed  as  though  the  re- 


646  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

sources  of  the  English  language  were  exhausted  to  find  fitting 
terms  wherein  to  express  the  people's  admiration  and  love.  The 
sorrow  and  the  mourning  were  exchanged  for  a  song  of  triumph 
and  spiritual  exultation, — to  the  praise  of  God  for  Phillips 
Brooks.  So  it  went  on,  as  if  it  could  have  no  ending,  during  the 
memorable  months  which  are  still  recalled  as  something  un- 
wonted in  human  experience, — the  afterglow  of  the  great  life. 
The  "resolutions"  adopted  by  countless  societies  and  organiza- 
tions, by  the  clergy  in  their  associations, — clergy  of  every  name; 
the  thousands  of  private  letters ;  the  memorial  sermons  preached 
in  churches  everywhere,  in  this  country  and  in  England,  and, 
indeed,  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken  the  world  over; 
the  articles  in  every  newspaper,  editorial  and  contributed, — in 
this  mass  of  expression,  which  no  one  can  adequately  measure, 
was  the  highest  tribute  to  Phillips  Brooks.  Exaggerated,  indeed, 
it  was,  for  those  who  wrote  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  the 
effort  to  say  the  strongest  things  in  his  praise, — exaggerated,  for 
it  went  to  the  verge,  and  sometimes  beyond  it,  of  what  it  is  law- 
ful to  say  of  mortal  man  in  this  world;  and  yet  significant,  not 
to  be  ashamed  of,  characteristic,  in  that  it  revealed,  when  taken 
together,  what  Phillips  Brooks  had  been  to  his  age,  and  also 
made  known  the  age  itself  as  it  laid  its  inmost  being  open  to  the 
eye  of  God  and  man. 

These  are  some  of  the  texts  of  memorial  sermons: 

"There  is  a  prince  and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel." 

"And  Samuel  died;  and  all  the  Israelites  were  gathered  to- 
gether, and  lamented  him." 

"Whatsoever  the  king  did  pleased  all  the  people." 

"When  he  came  near,  the  whole  city  was  moved,  saying,  Who 
is  this?" 

"And  they  said  one  to  another,  Did  not  our  heart  burn  within 
us,  while  he  talked  with  us  by  the  way,  and  while  he  opened  to 
us  the  Scriptures?" 

"  Behold,  I  have  given  him  for  a  witness  to  the  people,  a  leader 
and  commander  to  the  people." 

"God  hath  anointed  thee  with  the  oil  of  gladness  above  thy 
fellows." 


TRIBUTES  647 

At  a  service  in  Westminster  Abbey,  Canon  Duckworth  spoke 
these  words : 

"I  think  of  the  great  American  bishop,  Phillips  Brooks,  that 
true  king  of  men,  whose  sudden  death  has  been  mourned  as  an 
irreparable  bereavement  in  the  churches  of  the  Old  World  as  in 
those  of  the  New.  No  more  signal  example  has  this  generation 
seen  of  that  deep,  comprehensive  work  which  the  Holy  Spirit 
accomplishes  when  He  takes  possession  of  the  whole  man.  There 
was  splendid  natural  faculty,  transfigured,  raised  to  its  highest 
power,  and  dedicated  to  its  highest  use.  There  was  the  whole 
intellectual  and  moral  being  suffused  with  the  flame  of  divine 
love,  and  aglow  with  those  fervid  convictions  which  found  on  his 
lips  such  matchless  expression.  And  then  there  was  the  mag- 
netic charm  of  personal  intercourse,  the  pure  teachings  of  the 
daily  life,  filled  full  of  high  interests,  and  still  more  persuasive  in 
its  unconscious  humility,  and  self-forgetfulness,  and  sympathy, 
than  those  burning  words  which,  wherever  he  was  to  be  heard, 
drew  thousands  to  listen,  as  one  has  truly  said,  'with  an  inten- 
sity of  expectation  as  if  the  very  mystery  of  existence  were  at 
last  to  stand  revealed.'  Who  could  know  him  and  remain  scep- 
tical as  to  the  reality  of  that  divine  life  which  it  is  man's  highest 
glory  to  receive?" 

And  these  words,  in  which  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the  Rt. 
Rev.  Dr.  Thorold,  dedicated  a  volume  of  sermons  to  Phillips 
Brooks,  will  find  an  echo  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  and  loved 
him: 

TO  THE  DEAR  MEMORY  OF 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

BISHOP  OF  MASSACHUSETTS 

STRONG,  FEARLESS,  TENDER,  ELOQUENT 

INCAPABLE  OF  MEANNESS 

BLAZING  WITH  INDIGNATION  AT  ALL  KINDS  OF  WRONG 

HIS  HEART  AND  MIND  DEEP  AND  WIDE  AS 

THE  OCEAN  AT  HIS  DOOR 

SIMPLE  AND  TRANSPARENT  AS  A  CHILD 

KEEN  WITH  ALL  THE  KEENNESS  OF  HIS  RACE 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  INSCRIBED 

BY  A  BROTHER  ACROSS  THE  WATER 

WHO  CHERISHES  HIS  FRIENDSHIP  AS  A 

TREASURE  LAID  UP  IN  HEAVEN 

AT  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  JUST 


INDEX 


Abbott,  Rev.  Lyman,  letter  to,  537. 

Adams,    C.    F.,     Reminiscences   of 

Phillips  Brooks  at  Latin  School, 

2lff. 

Agassiz,  L.,  271. 

Ancient    and    Honorable    Artillery 

Company,  sermon  before,  242. 
Andover,  1,  2,  270,  272,  331,  491. 
Andover  Theological  Seminary,  1,5, 

43,  207. 
Apostolic  Succession,  249,  590. 
Arminianism,  2. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  58. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  60,  363,  364. 
"Authority  and  Conscience,"  436. 

Baillie,    Lady   Frances,    362,    363, 

634,  637. 
Baptism,  significance  of,  472. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  485. 
Berlin,  375ff. 
Bersier,  M.,  450. 
"Biography,"  essay  on,  466. 
Boston,  account  of  fire  in,  261. 
Brahma  Somaj,  393ft. 
Brooks,  Rev.  Arthur,  142,  216,  254, 

274.  393-  628>  645- 

Brooks,  Rev.  Edward,  2,  3, 

Brooks,  Rev.  Frederick,  84,  125, 
223;  death  of,  276. 

Brooks,  George,  126,  130,  137; 
death  of,  140. 

Brooks,  Rev.  John  Cotton,  253,  556, 
597.  598,  625,  645. 

Brooks,  Mary  Ann  (Phillips),  2,  3, 
6;  letters  to  Phillips  Brooks, 
61,  62,  215;  death  of,  34iff. 

Brooks,  Peter  Char  don,  3. 

Brooks,  Phillips,  ancestry,  iff; 
birth,  3;  early  years,  4ff;  early 
education,  9;  Boston  Latin 
School,  10;  enters  Harvard 
College,  1  iff;  literary  activ- 
ity at  Harvard,  i2ff;  religious 
attitudes,  14;  reserve,  16; 
usher  at  Latin  School,  igff; 
resigns  ushership,  21;  first 
religious  experience,  2  7ff;  en- 
ters Virginia  Theological  Sem- 


649 


inary,  37;  first  communion,  42 ; 
wide  reading,  47ft ;  verse 
writing,  48,  49;  note-books, 
49;  confirmation,  57;  inward 
development,  58;  studies  in  the 
Church  Fathers,  69;  reserve, 
87,  88;  first  sermon,  89;  essays 
in  the  seminary,  93;  call  to 
Church  of  the  Advent,  Phila- 
delphia, 10 1,  102;  ordination 
to  diaconate,  103;  ordination 
to  priesthood,  no;  call  to 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
Philadelphia,  113;  resignation 
of  Church  of  the  Advent,  120; 
visit  to  Niagara  Falls,  129; 
comments  on  general  conven- 
tion, 1862,  136;  letter  to  his 
mother  on  the  death  of  George 
Brooks,  141 ;  Fast-day  sermon, 
1863,  143;  vigorous  advocacy 
of  the  Union,  143;  visit  to 
Gettsyburg,  146;  interest  in 
the  colored  people,  iSoff,  173, 
176;  sermon  on  "Mercies  of 
Reoccupation,"  152!?;  call  to 
Philadelphia  Divinity  School, 
159;  extracts  from  note-book 
on  Mohammedanism,  163ft:; 
attends  Pennsylvania  Dioce- 
san Convention,  170;  sermon 
on  the  Prayer  Book,  170;  ad- 
vocates negro  suffrage,  i72ff, 
prayer  in  Philadelphia  at  the 
fall  of  Richmond,  178;  prayer 
at  Harvard  Commemoration, 
187;  estimate  of  Lincoln,  i79ff, 
i83ff;  absence  in  Europe  for  a 
year,  i9off;  call  to  Trinity 
Church,  Boston,  2i2ff;  com- 
ments on  appearance  of,  217, 
218;  second  call  to  Trinity 
Church,  218;  sermon  on  the 
Living  Church,  22off;  begins 
his  rectorship  ofTrinityChurch, 
Boston,  231;  interest  in  edu- 
cation, 243,  244;  relation  to 
evangelical  party,  263 ;  essay  on 
Heresy,   273;  method  of  pre- 


650 


INDEX 


B  rooks — Continued 

paring  sermons,  279ft;  interest 
in  the  building  of  new  Trinity- 
Church.  287ft;   delivers    "Lec- 
tures on  Preaching"  at  Yale, 
296ff ;  comparison  between  Phil- 
adelphia and   Boston  preach- 
ing, 302;  lectures  at  Yale  on 
"Teaching  of  Religion,"  3041!; 
address  on  Pulpit  and  Popular 
Skepticism,  308;  Bohlen  Lec- 
tures   on    "The    Influence    of 
Jesus,"     311;   receives    degree 
of   D.D.  from    Harvard,    328; 
death  of  his  father,  334,  335; 
death    of   his   mother,    34 iff; 
call    to    Harvard,    3 5 off;    me- 
morial sermon  on  Dr.  Vinton, 
360,     361;     article    on     Dean 
Stanley,  363;  the  year  abroad, 
372ff ;  visit  to  Tennyson,  409!?; 
visits  Washington,   D.C.,  435; 
lectures  on  "Tolerance,"  436, 
437;  receives  degree  of  D.D. 
from    Oxford,    444^;    elected 
Assistant  Bishop  of  Pennsyl- 
vania,   4S9ff;    advocates    abo- 
lition  of   compulsory   prayers 
at  Harvard,  463ft;    essays  on 
"Biography"  and  on  "Litera- 
ture and  Life,"  46sff;  opposes 
change  of  name  of  the  Episco- 
pal Church,  473^;  preaches  at 
Faneuil    Hall,    487ft;    railway 
accident  in  Philadelphia,  500, 
501;  visits  Japan,  52  5ff;Lenten 
addresses   in   Trinity    Church, 
New  York,    546ff;    change   in 
mode  of  preaching,  553;  char- 
acteristics,       560ft;        elected 
Bishop  of  Massachusetts,  585^; 
preaches  farewell    sermons  at 
Trinity     Church,     603,     604; 
letter  to  Rev.  Mr.  Addison  on 
religious  experience,  605,  606; 
consecrated  bishop,  6o7ff;  en- 
ters on  work  of  the  Episcopate, 
6o9ff;  Lent  lectures  at  Trinity 
Church,    615;  Convention  ad- 
dress, 6i8ff;   last   days,  6395. 

Brooks,  Thomas,  1. 

Brooks,  William  Gray,  3 ;  death  of, 
334,  335. 

Brooks,  William  Gray,  Jr.,  42,  642. 

Brown,  John,  execution  of,  106. 

Browne,  Rev.  Percy,  374. 

Browning,  Robert,  58,  67,  192,  256. 

Bruce,  Prof.  A.  B.,  580 


Bryce,  Rt.  Hon.  James,  581,  582, 

609. 
Buddhism,  401,  406,  528 
Bushnell,  Rev.  Horace,  66,  in. 
Butler,  Bishop,  94. 

Calvinism,  2,  6.     See  Puritanism. 

Cambridge,  England,  446ft. 

Carlyle,  67. 

Carthusian  Monastery,  412. 

Chamber  of  Commerce  banquet, 
542. 

Channing,  Rev.  William  Ellery,  6 
212. 

Characteristics,  560ft. 

Christian  Church,  definition  of, 
2i9ff,  472ft,  491.  492. 

Christian  Science,  451. 

Christian  unity,  310. 

Chunder  Sen,  393ft. 

Church  Congress,  364,  495,  610. 

Church  music,  307. 

Church  of  England,  233. 

Church  of  the  Advent,  Philadelphia, 
100,  102,  105,  113,  558,  586. 

Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Phila- 
delphia, 113,  115,  116,  119, 
120,  161,  162,  205,  225. 

Civil  Service  Reform,  535ff. 

Civil  War,  beginning  of,  113. 

Clark,  Rt.  Rev.  T.  M.,  593,  611,  624, 

645- 
Clarke,  Rev.  James  Freeman,  460, 

508,  509,  514. 
Clericus    Club,    Boston,    254,    374, 

406,  420. 
Clericus  Club,  Philadelphia,  216. 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  66,  571. 
Common  Prayer,  Book  of,  169. 
Compulsory   prayers   at    Harvard, 

463ft. 
Confirmation,  574. 
Cooper,  Rev.  C.  D.,  219,  330,  396, 

450,  500,  555,  599. 
Cotton,  Rev.  John,  2,  349- 
"Courage,"  essay  on,  284,  285. 
Creeds,  interpretation  of,  620,  621, 

635- 

D.D.,  Honorary  degree  of,  con- 
ferred by  Oxford,  444;  con- 
ferred by  Columbia  Univer- 
sity, 486. 

Day,  President,  579. 

Doane,  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop,  594- 

Dogma,  significance  of,  473. 

Duckworth,  Canon,  tribute  of,  647. 


INDEX 


651 


Eastburn,  Rt.   Rev.  Manton,   122, 

147,  212,  264. 
"  Ecce  Homo,"  313,  538. 
Eliot,  Pres.  C.  E.,  25,  351,  359. 
Ellis,  Rev.  George  E.,  292,  293. 
Emerson,  R.  W.,  245. 
English  Civil  Service,  402. 
Episcopal  Church,  7,  452,  474,  475; 

change    of    name    of,     475ff; 

distinctive     claims     of,      524; 

General    Convention    of,    134, 

135,  329. 
Episcopal  Theological  School,  206, 

240,  602,  610. 
Evangelical  Alliance,  538. 
Evangelical  Education  Society,  167 
Evangelical  School,  8iff,    90,    123, 

263ff,  316,  496. 
Everett,  Prof.  C.  C,  580. 
Everett,  Edward,  3. 

Faneuil  Hall  services,  487ff. 
Farrar,  Archdeacon,  409,  554. 
Frothingham,  Rev.  N.  L.,  3,  6. 
Future  life,  638. 

Germany,  375x1. 
Gettysburg,  146,  147. 
Gladstone,  Hon.  W.  E.,  409. 
Gordon,  Rev.  G.  A.,  570. 
Grimm,  Dr.  Hermann,  385. 

Hale,  Rev.  Edward  Everett,  609. 
Harvard  Commemoration,  i86ff. 
Harvard    University,     uff,    35off, 

480,  576,  603. 
"Heresy,"  essay  on,  273. 
Hinduism,  399,  400. 
Hoar,  Hon.  G.  F.,  452. 
Holmes,  Dr.   Oliver  Wendell,  374, 

5?9.  Sio- 
Hopkins,  Bishop,  135,  149. 
Hopkins,  Rev.  J.  H.,  591,  594. 
Hort,  Dr.,  446,  447. 
Huntington,  Rev.  W.  R.,  187,  571. 
Hutton,    R.    H.,    essay  of,  on   the 

Incarnation,  248. 
Huxley,  T.  H.,  246. 

Incarnation,  95,  248. 
Influence  of  Jesus,  cited,  56,  31  iff, 
336. 

Johns  Hopkins  University,  629. 
Jowett,  Master  of  Balliol,  443. 
Justification  by  faith,  94,  423. 


King's  Chapel,  274,  482. 
Kingsley,  Charles,  272. 

Latin  School,  441. 

Lawrence,  Rt.  Rev.  William,  424, 
613.  633. 

Leather  Trade  dinner,  543. 

"Lectures  on  Preaching,"  2965, 
429,  450. 

Lefroy,  Rev.  Mr.,  letter  to,  510. 

Lenten  services,  272,  331,  5o4ff, 
522ff,  545ff,  584,  6i5ff. 

Lessing,  377,  378. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  114;  Emancipa- 
tion Proclamation  of,  132  ff, 
138,  139;  death  of,  i79ff. 

Litany,  value  of,  505. 

"Literature  and  Life,"  467. 

Liturgical  growth,  364. 

Long,  Hon.  John  D.,  356. 

Lord  Bacon,  58,  64,  65,  542. 

Lord's  Supper,  265,  288,  291,  292, 
472,  574,  615. 

Lotze,  375,  376. 

Lowell,  Hon.  James  Russell,  569, 
588,  601. 

Luther,  82,  194,377.383,384,  42iff. 

McClellan,  General,    118,    128,    137, 

129,  130,  132,  133. 
Mcllvaine,  Rt.  Rev.  C.  P.,  135. 
McVicar,    Rt.    Rev.    W.    N.,    430, 

449,  460,  500,  525,  624. 
Maconachie,  Mr.  Robert,  letters  to, 

510,  625. 
Marriage  and  divorce,  533. 
Martineau,  Rev.  James,  212,  507. 
Martyn,  Henry,  345,  403. 
Massachusetts    Historical    Society, 

335,  338- 
Maurice,  Rev.  F.  D.,  66,  212,  317, 

411,  436,  447. 
Medford,  2. 
Melville,  Canon,  192. 
Milton  as  an  educator,  204. 
Miracles,  594. 
Missions,  foreign,  403ff. 
Mitchell,  Miss  Elizabeth,  letters  to, 

244ff,  269ff. 
Mitchell,  Dr.  Weir,  108,  226ff,  253, 
w  ,  33i>  437,  636. 
Mohammedanism,  1635,  399. 
Moody,  D.  S.,  326. 
Mulford,  Dr.  Elisha,  362. 

National  Prison  Congress,   512. 
Negro  suffrage,  204. 
Neo-Platonism,  66. 


652 


INDEX 


New  England  Society,  636. 

Newton,  Rev.  R.  Heber,  407,  439. 

Niagara  Falls,  129. 

North  Andover,  3,  84,  329,  433, 
468,  469. 

Note-books,  extracts  from,  49ft,  65, 
66,  68ff,  91,  92,  99,  in,  112, 
207,  208,  26off,  282ff,  377ft, 
399ff,    43off,    457,    458,    497ff, 

529ft- 
Nyegaard,  M.,  450. 

Optimism,  453,  515ft,  636. 
Origen,  64,  66. 
"Orthodoxy,"  essay  on,  554. 
Oxford,  443. 

Paddock,  Rt.  Rev.  B.  H.,  268,  274, 

462. 
Paine,  Robert  Treat,  250,  291,  391, 

595ff- 
Palestine,  197ft. 
Parker,    Rev.   Theodore,    15,   313, 

3J4. 
Parks,  Rev.  Leighton,  600. 
Peabody,  Rev.  A.  P.,  618. 
Pelagianism,  94. 

Pennsylvania  Episcopate,  459fL 
Pessimism,  319,  454. 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  222. 
Philadelphia,  Divinity  School,  159. 

168,  175. 
Phillips,  Rev.  George,  1. 
Phillips,  John,  2. 
Phillips,  Hon.  Samuel,  1. 
Phillips,  Rev.  Samuel,  1. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  107. 
Phillips  Academy,  1. 
Philo,  64,  66. 
Plato,  64. 
Potter,  Rt.  Rev.  H.  C,    497,    608, 

645- 

Preaching  of  Phillips  Brooks,  com- 
ments on,  128,  148,  229,  230, 
234,  235,  237ff,  285,  3ooff, 
337,  4isff,  425. 

"Pulpit  and  Popular  Skepticism," 
308. 

Puritanism,  1,  2,  212,  270,  292, 
340. 

Queen  Victoria,  346. 

Randolph,  Rt.  Rev.  A.  M.,  remi- 
niscence of  Phillips  Brooks;  44. 

Rectory  of  Trinity  Church,  349, 
56iff,  608. 

Reformed  Episcopal  Church,  266. 


Religious  doubt,  300. 

Revised  Version,  365. 

Richards,  Rev.  C.  A.  L.,  remem- 
brances of  Phillips  Brooks,  44ff . 

Richardson,  H.  H.,  232,  289,  469, 
470. 

Richmond,  capture  of,  169, 172, 177. 

"Robert   Elsmere,"    comment  on, 

5i3- 
Robertson,  Rev.  F.  W.,  247,  317. 
Rossetti,  D.  G.,  256. 
Rousseau,  82. 
Ruskin,  58,  67. 

Sermons,  alluded  to  or  cited,  172, 
204,  257,  258,  264,  3oiff,  328, 
338>  339-  347-  360,  361,  366ff, 
414,  415,  417^.  426ff,  444,  445, 
453.  455.  47°.  47*.  48i,  503, 
504,  512,  515,  520,  521,  535ff, 
546ff,  553,  558,  570,  615,  6i6, 
624. 

Sermons,  method  of  preparing, 
279*1. 

Shelley,  34. 

Sibylline  oracles,  209. 

Sisterhoods,  438. 

Sistine  Madonna,  1,  194,  385. 

Slavery,  4off,  59,  117,  136,  142,  150, 
i52ff,  173,  182. 

Socrates,  322. 

Sonnets,  556. 

Sparrow,  Rev.  W.,  93,  267. 

Sphinx,  The,  198. 

St.  Andrew's  Brotherhood,  627. 

St.  Andrew's  Church,  490. 

St.  Augustine,  82. 

St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  386 

St.  Paul's  Church,  Boston,  7. 

Stanley,  Dean  of  Westminster,  209, 
210,  246,  275,  327,  333,  346, 
347,  362ff,  369,  409. 

Stone,  Rev,  J.  S.,  8. 

Strong,  Rev.  G.  A.,  397,  456. 

Sumner,  Charles,  119,  272. 

Sunday-School  carols,  203,  216,  527. 

"Teaching  of  Religion,"  304ff. 
Temperance  reform,  534. 
Tennyson,  15,  409ff,  556,  623,  628, 

634. 
Tertullian,  64,  78. 
Thanksgiving    Day   sermons,    172, 

204,  303,  367,  453,  454,  5i5ff, 

636. 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  94. 
Thomas,  Rev.  Reuen,  621. 
Thorold,  Bishop,  tribute  of,  647. 


INDEX 


653 


"Tolerance,"  lectures  on,  436,  446. 
Travels,  i9off,  25iff,  275,  327,  346ft, 

372ft,    442ft,    462,    463,    494, 

495.  556,  557.  622ff. 
Trinity  Church,  Boston,   147,  212, 

218,    222,    224ft,    23iff,    261, 

276,    287ft,    333,    355ft,    420, 

575,  603,  615. 
Trinity  Church,  New  York,  546:8:. 
Trinity,  doctrine  of  the,  445. 
Tulloch,  Principal,  272,  286. 

Unitarianism,  2,   5,  211,  233,   592. 

Vinton,  Rev.  A.  H.,  8.  25,  37,  100, 
106,  108,  113,  212,  214,  225, 
290,  359s,  565. 


Virginia  Theological  Seminary,  38ff ; 

impressions  of,  96,  97,  332. 
Vivisection,  451. 
Von  Bunsen,  Baron  George,  392. 

War,  242,  247. 

Washington,  city  of,  40,  435,  612. 

Watch  Night,  519. 

Watertown,  1. 

Westminster  Abbey,  275,328,  346ff , 

442,  647. 
Williams,  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop,  591. 
Winthrop,  Hon.  R.  C,  335. 

Yale  Divinity  School,  304. 

Young  Men's  Christian  Union,  639; 


/      A*1  v 


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h*  -U'*g 


